


All Roads Lead to DYAD

by greywing (ctrlx)



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, The DYAD AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctrlx/pseuds/greywing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fortune smiled on Delphine Cormier when her internship at a European branch of the DYAD Institute led to a permanent placement. The job, however, takes her across the Atlantic to one of the Institute's facilities in the United States. There she meets DYAD colleague Cosima Niehaus, a bright young scientist who is friendly and welcoming, if sometimes a bit obtuse. </p><p>(Early parts of this fic appeared on Tumblr under the heading "The DYAD AU." This fic is complete.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Ah! Cosima!" Dr. Leekie called. A woman who had just stepped out into the hall and had turned to head in the opposite direction from them stopped and pivoted sharply on a heel. Upon sight of her Delphine's mind snagged on the word "American" even though she knew that just about every American she had seen and met did not match the bespectacled, accessoried, tattooed, dreadlocked woman in a lab coat that cocked an inquisitive look at Dr. Leekie. He smiled. "Come over here so I can introduce you to the newest addition to our facilities."

The woman's lips pursed in a pout, as if considering declining, but she sauntered toward them. "Delphine," Dr. Leekie said as Cosima got closer, "this is Cosima Niehaus. She's a common sight around here. Cosima, this is Dr. Delphine Cormier, newly arrived from Europe."

Cosima glanced at Dr. Leekie, expression unreadable, so that the smile she turned on Delphine was as unexpected for its appearance as it was for its warmth. Delphine blinked at this woman, suddenly struck by her apparent youthfulness, and the hand that thrust out in offer. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Cormier. Welcome to America."

Delphine fumbled to rally, slipping her cool hand into Cosima's warm one, grasping it firmly as Cosima's answered her with confidence in her handshake. "Yes, likewise, Dr. Niehaus."

Cosima's free hand shot up, palm out to halt Delphine. "Not 'Doctor.' Not yet."

"Oh, I'm sorry," apologized Delphine. An intern, then, perhaps. 

Cosima waved her off. "No, that's cool, don't worry about it. I hope to earn my doctorate soon. If I can find time to actually write my dissertation."

Cosima glanced again at Dr. Leekie, who chuckled. 

"Anyway," the woman continued, finally stealing back her hand from Delphine's grip, "just call me Cosima."

"Delphine," she insisted in turn. " _Enchantée._ "

Cosima's brows leapt up in consideration before she smiled again, widely. " _Enchantée._ " They stood studying each other in comfortable silence until Cosima gave a start that startled Delphine. Cosima raised her wristwatch to check the time. Beside them, Dr. Leekie discreetly did the same. 

"Oh shit, I'm late," Cosima exclaimed. Her outburst made her sheepish in the following second. "Sorry. I have to run. It was nice meeting you. Welcome. I'll be around, so if--oh!" Cosima grabbed for her purse and rooted around in it. She extracted a slim case from which she procured a business card that she held out to Delphine. The Frenchwoman took it hesitantly. "My contact information. That'll make things easier. Feel free to call if you need any help, like, settling in. Gotta go. Bye." She turned to Dr. Leekie. "Bye, Dr. Leekie."

"Goodbye, Cosima," he said genially. "Take care."

Cosima didn't even wait for his farewell--or the one that never came from Delphine, too stunned by the turn in events to utter one in time--before turning tail and speeding down the hallway. Delphine stared after her for a bit before looking down at the card in her hand. It was a DYAD business card with the name Cosima Niehaus, no further designation, but a phone number and a DYAD email address. It seemed unusual for an intern. Mulling on that, it seemed odd that Dr. Leekie would single out an intern to introduce to her. 

A hand settled into the small of her back, breaking Delphine out of her thoughts. 

"Shall we continue the tour?" Dr. Leekie asked. 

"Yes, of course, please," responded Delphine. She slipped the business card into her back pocket and smiled up at her tour guide boss. 

Only at the end of the day, in her still threadbare apartment, did she take the business card out again and contemplate the mystery of its existence.

*

Delphine slouched upon the cafeteria tabletop, chin propped in hand, and poked at her salad with a fork. She sat alone, by choice, taking her lunch late after having volunteered to wait for the last round in a series of tests to complete. The silence seemed to lull time into a sluggish torpor, a welcome respite after a busy whirlwind week.

"Hey. Delphine."

The voice twisted Delphine in her seat and brought her face-to-face with the grinning visage of Cosima Niehaus. The shorter woman, just as unexpected on the eyes as she had been at their introduction, leaned casually against the table and smiled down at Delphine.

"Hey,” Delphine greeted her brightly, sitting up straighter. “ _Bonjour_ , Cosima."

Cosima’s grin grew toothier. “You remembered my name.”

“You remembered mine,” Delphine pointed out.

“Yeah, but you had like fifty new names to remember. For the rest of us, there’s only one new face around here.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Delphine allowed. She leaned back in her chair so that she did not have to crane her neck so much to maintain eye contact. “But I did repeat my name several times this past week.” 

Cosima smiled. “Really? You did? I find that kind of hard to believe.”

Delphine laughed, a bit uncertainly. “Why?”

Cosima shook her head. “No reason.” The fingers of one hand idly stroked the fingers of her other as Cosima shifted her weight to half-lean, half-sit on the table. She regarded Delphine from an angle. The movement--Cosima twisted a ring around her finger, slid it up and down--momentarily distracted Delphine. “So. Have you been settling in okay?”

Delphine raised her eyes back to Cosima’s face. “Yes. Thank you for asking. I’m still learning where everything is, but,” Delphine nodded, “I am, uh, adjusting.”

Cosima nodded along. “Cool. Good. And, uh, what about around the city? Are you finding everything alright?”

“Well . . . enough?” The lilt of Delphine’s voice at the end similarly elevated Cosima’s brow above the frames of her glasses. Delphine smiled. “I get lost sometimes. But you know, getting lost is not so bad. I find my way back and then--and then I’m no longer lost.” 

“That’s--that’s some pretty positive thinking.” They shared a laugh. Cosima’s eyes skimmed over Delphine’s face. The scrutiny lengthened and Delphine retreated from the awareness of the assessment to a study of the delicate hoop through the brunette’s nostril. “But, um, if you ever need someone to show you around, you . . . have my number.”

“Yes, I--” Delphine’s gaze flicked up. She had, in fact, programmed the number into her contacts. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”

Cosima smiled and her eyes and voice softened, the note of cheer fading from its timbre, sinking in volume, but sounding warmer. “Really, feel free to call. It must be disorienting to move overseas.”

“A little.” Delphine swallowed. “But DYAD provided me with all the help and support I could have asked for in the transition.”

Cosima ducked her head. “Yeah, I’m sure they did,” she intoned drily. Delphine’s brow scrunched at the sarcasm.

“Is there--is something wrong?” Delphine inquired.

Cosima’s head snapped up. “No, no.” Her hands waved wildly, emphatically, a loose bracelet jingling. “Nothing’s wrong. Just. They really . . . take care of their employees here.”

Delphine studied Cosima. Tension accentuated her mouth as starkly as the eyeliner limning her eyes. 

“If you don’t mind my asking,” she began slowly, so that Cosima’s attention focused on her with greater concentration with each word, “you said you are working on your doctorate--but you are an employee here?”

Cosima swung her head in a wobbling circle. “It’s a bit . . . complicated. I’ve been with DYAD practically since finishing undergrad.” Delphine’s eyebrows shot up. “But I, um, wanted to continue my studies, so I went back to school and now I sort of . . . split my time between here and there. Really all that’s left is writing my dissertation and if I can do that and defend it--I can finally, finally get that piece of paper.”

Delphine smiled in commiseration with the misery in Cosima’s almost-moan. “What discipline are you in?”

“Evo-devo.” 

Befuddlement flooded Delphine’s features. Cosima watched the play of her expression closely, the soundless working of her lips, the narrowed confusion of her eyes, and let seconds stretch out before clarifying, “Evolutionary development.”

“Ah.” Delphine smiled to cover her embarrassment, while Cosima made no effort to hide the amusement in her grin. “I see. Of course. What is the topic of your dissertation?”

The amusement receded and quiet interjected as Cosima sobered and appeared to ruminate on the question. When at last she spoke, she sounded distant. “Epigenetic influences on clone cells.”

“That sounds very interesting.”

Cosima nodded. “Yeah. I mean, on a microbiological level now, but, um, maybe on a bigger scale some day.”

The remark felt odd, but why exactly Delphine couldn’t say. Maybe it was Cosima’s tone, the casualness underlaid with a suggestion of sentiments sterner, or the far-off sights of Cosima's gaze as she delivered her answer, or the vague allusion couched in her words, something lurking.

“I, um, never asked what field you’re in,” Cosima cut into Delphine’s thoughts. Delphine shook herself with a slight start.

“Oh, ah, immunology.”

“Immunology,” Cosima repeated in a considering drawl. 

“Yes. I focused on host-parasite relationships, but here at the DYAD the opportunities for research are practically endless, as you know.”

Cosima nodded distractedly. “This, uh, transfer--did you put in for it yourself?”

Delphine’s chin jerked in a slight shake. “Mm. Well. I was told that a position opened up here and it was recommended to me that I apply for it.”

“Recommended,” Cosima muttered. Louder, she asked, “Do you know if there were many applicants?”

Delphine shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Cosima nodded a few times in a measured cadence. “I see.” She roused with a jolt, hands again splaying out before her. “I mean, congratulations on getting the position. That’s--that’s totally awesome.”

“Thank you,” Delphine said to say something, unsure where Cosima’s questions had stemmed from and where they’d been leading and where they’d ended up.

In the thickening silence the two women exchanged shy, uncertain smiles that dissolved into shared chuckles.

“I, uh, I’ll let you get back to your lunch,” Cosima said. “I should probably--” A check of her watch stilled her features.

“Late for something?” Delphine hazarded.

“Oh, yeah, sorta, I gotta--I gotta go.” Cosima got to her feet and adjusted the lay of her bag’s strap upon her shoulder. Still facing Delphine, she began to backpedal away slowly. “Nice talking to you again. Call me if you ever need a guide or something, or if, you know, you just--” Her hands windmilled around each other. “--wanna hang out.”

“O-okay,” Delphine stammered, struck again by the speed with which Cosima had turned the conversation and managed to issue a reworked invitation. “It was nice seeing you again, too. Take care. _Ciao._ ”

Cosima’s mouth twitched at the corner. “Bye. _Ciao._ ”

Cosima waved one last time, turned, and made a swift departure. Delphine raised a hand in an answering send off, though perhaps a second too slow. Yet her hand hovered there, as if considering or forgotten, as Delphine contemplated the disappearing figure.

*

“Dr. Leekie.”

About half of the heads in the hall turned at the pleased exclamation, the name a proclamation that sent them seeking not the speaker but the esteemed scientist himself. Delphine herself glanced up from the printout she had been absorbed in and spotted the tall, aged figure, his sharp features relaxed in a pleasant, amiable expression. But even from farther down the hall Delphine picked out the intensity that lurked in and around Dr. Leekie’s eyes, which she knew to be keen and searching. He turned to the younger scientist who had hailed him and Delphine managed to catch her colleague asking, “Are you looking for Cosima?”

“I am, actually,” Dr. Leekie replied, clearer to Delphine’s ears as she neared them on her way. “Have you seen her?”

“Not today,” the man answered. “She hasn’t been coming in much lately. The last time we talked, she said she wanted to buckle down and write her dissertation.”

“Is that so?” Dr. Leekie said. “Well, if you see her, let her know I was looking for her, will you?”

“Of course, sir.”

The two progressed to the discussion of other topics as Delphine swept past, reengaged in the test results. A few strides later, Dr. Leekie called out to her. Delphine stopped short and turned to see Dr. Leekie approaching her. 

“Hello, Dr. Leekie,” she greeted him.

He smiled at her. “How are we today?”

“I’m doing well, thank you.” Delphine tucked her hair behind an ear. “And yourself?”

“I seem to have lost one of my flock, but I’m sure she’ll pop up.” Dr. Leekie smiled at her conspiratorily, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. The moment passed with the shift of his attention. “How are you settling in? I hope everything’s okay?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Delphine nodded eagerly. “Everyone has been very nice and welcoming.”

“Excellent. Exactly what I want to hear.” He studied her, a contemplative air settling around him. A finger rose to his lips and settled against them. When he spoke again it slipped lower, to rest upon his chin. “Delphine, I was reviewing some of the proposals you presented to your supervisors in Europe and I found some of them quite interesting. I was wondering if we could perhaps talk about them and discuss plans you might have for your work at our facilities here. How does that sound?”

“That sounds--” Delphine stuttered and stopped, unprepared for the offer, the unsought consideration. Excitement swelled in her and her cheeks felt warm. She swallowed and spoke slowly so as not to sound eager. “I would value the opportunity to discuss these things with you.” 

“Well, it just so happens that I’m free this evening, so perhaps you’d care to join me for dinner?”

“I . . .” Delphine blanked. “I--yes, I would be honored. I have a few things I need to finish up, if--if that would be okay?”

“No problem,” Dr. Leekie assured her, touching the tips of his fingers together. “That’ll give me more time to hunt down my missing person.” His eyes flicked over Delphine’s head. “Ah. Speak of the devil.”

Delphine swiveled to see Cosima heading directly for them, eyebrows rising. “Devil? Are you talking about me?”

“Do you see any other devils?” Dr. Leekie lobbed back.

Cosima’s gaze slid from Dr. Leekie to Delphine, a grin seizing her lips. “No, but maybe an angel.”

Delphine blinked, lips parting in soundless surprise and confusion. Cosima’s face, open and cheery, sparkled with amusement. Dr. Leekie hummed in his throat. “Your example may very well make angels of us all, Cosima. Let me remind you that Dr. Chou is in town for a very limited time.”

Cosima’s attention shifted sharply to Leekie, expression falling. Delphine felt the transition like a weight being lifted and found, to her surprise, that she’d been holding her breath. 

“Oh shit,” Cosima moaned. “That was today? Why didn’t anyone call me?” She fumbled for her purse and went digging through its contents. Dr. Leekie frowned at her.

“Calls were made and messages were sent,” he said bluntly. “Several times.”

The Blackberry emerged. Cosima stabbed at buttons but the device responded only with a blank, unlit screen. Clutching the dead phone, Cosima pressed the heel of her free hand against her forehead. “Shit. I must’ve forgotten to charge it. Sorry. I’m sorry. I hit a groove writing my dissertation and I forgot all about the meeting. Someone should have--emailed me!” 

“I'm sorry that didn’t occur to us,” Dr. Leekie drolled blandly. Cosima blushed but a stubborn set drew her lips into a thin line. “Maybe I should ask Kelsey to program your schedule into your phone for you?”

“I wouldn’t want to put her through all that trouble,” Cosima said, “but I wouldn’t complain if she sent me reminders in the future.” 

“This isn’t like you, Cosima.” A note of disapproval hung heavy in his words. Delphine glanced quickly at Cosima, subconsciously intent on gauging her reaction, and stopped herself when she realized what she was doing. This wasn’t her place. 

“Please excuse me,” she interjected. Both turned to her, the sternness of their exchange lingering in their faces. “I must finish these tasks and then I will--meet you somewhere, Dr. Leekie?”

His features lightened into a smile. “How about you stop by my office when you’re done and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay,” Delphine said as Cosima chimed in with, “Go? Go where?”

“Dinner,” Dr. Leekie supplied where Delphine hesitated. He sounded, to Delphine, like a father humoring his child. Whatever ire he’d let slip a moment earlier seemed to have evaporated.

“Dinner? Can I come?” Cosima asked. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

Dr. Leekie studied Cosima neutrally, but turned a smile upon Delphine. “If that’s alright with Delphine?”

Delphine gaped at him, horrified by the question and then by her undignified response. Cosima and Dr. Leekie watched her expectantly. Looking from one to the other, Delphine inadvertently locked eyes with Cosima, whose brown-tinted gaze pierced Delphine with acute interest. But as their eyes held contact the regard softened, an easing of pressure that relented not quite into pity, but almost wistfulness. 

“Yes.” Delphine found her voice, pulling away from Cosima’s estimation and addressing Dr. Leekie. “Yes. Of course. It’s fine.”

“Alright, then,” Dr. Leekie declared. “Cosima and I will wait for you in my office, so take your time. There’s no rush.”

“Or don’t take your time and save me from a lecture,” Cosima added. She flashed a grin. It didn’t strike Delphine as cocky as she imagined it should have, but she would have described Dr. Leekie’s smile as indulgently tolerant. 

“I’ll be up as soon as I can,” Delphine said. Cosima’s pout interpreted that as Delphine leaving her to her fate, but she snuck a smile at Delphine just before Dr. Leekie slipped an arm around her shoulders and corralled her off.

“Until then,” he said to Delphine as he led Cosima away.

“See you again soon!” Cosima called over her shoulder and threw her a wave. 

“Soon,” Delphine echoed, but so softly that it was mostly to herself. As the two walked away, Dr. Leekie’s typically long strides curtailed to match Cosima’s, the renown philosopher-scientist leaned over and spoke to his young companion, who shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Delphine stood dumbly staring off after them in a daze, dimly noting how everyone else in the hall moved around them and out of their way, before it hit her that the three of them would be having dinner together in a very short time.

*

The restaurant was far more upscale than Delphine had anticipated. The maitre d’ greeted Dr. Leekie by name upon sight, exchanged a look of recognition with Cosima, and passed a speculative eye over Delphine that whispered over her like cool judgment. The two women hung back, hovering side-by-side behind Dr. Leekie as he settled arrangements. The restaurant, dimly lit and cozily laid out, presented itself as a welcome distraction. While Delphine lost herself in a study of it, Cosima gave Delphine a sidelong glance and gently bumped the Frenchwoman with her shoulder. Delphine glanced over, startled, and stumbled into the American’s impish smile. Delphine found herself smiling back.

Delphine’s mild alarm refused to abate when they were seated without menus and the waiter fixed on her, smiled graciously, but said, “Additional sparring partner tonight?” No one commented and there was no time for Delphine to puzzle out the remark before she was queried about dietary restrictions, learned the chef would be pleased to delight them with a selection of his choosing, and watched Dr. Leekie hand off the wine menu to Cosima--who waved it at Delphine.

“Would you like to choose?” Cosima asked. “Do you have any preferences?”

Delphine shook her head, smoothing out the napkin upon her lap and folding her hands atop it. “No. Please, go ahead.”

“Okay,” Cosima said, opening the menu and holding it before her, “but no complaints.”

Dr. Leekie smiled.

The first sips of wine warmed their way down Delphine’s throat and settled in her empty stomach. The liquor helped ease and loosen her thoughts, as did Cosima voluntarily launching into a review of her day’s progress writing her dissertation. Dr. Leekie engaged the brunette with pointed questions on key points, which Cosima argued and defended against or let go unchallenged in a mulling silence. The two talked familiarly, the discussion picking up like a continuation of a previous one, where single words and phrases served as shortcut references to whole bodies of topics. 

The masterful, easy command of the terms passing between Dr. Leekie and Cosima awed Delphine, but it didn’t surprise her. She was familiar with the DYAD Institute’s extensive successes with cloning techniques--but was not as acquainted with the techniques themselves. She sat silently while Cosima and Dr. Leekie bandied knowledge, circumscribed on the outside, almost convinced she had been forgotten had it not been for the way that Cosima occasionally glanced over in her direction, pausing mid-argument to explain an aspect of an experiment or provide background context of an area of study. At times Cosima spoke too quickly, eager, hands beating the air, nearly running ahead of herself, but Delphine sensed Cosima’s desire to include her, to give her an understanding of the topic. Before long Delphine began interjecting with questions of clarification. The lines of communication shifted, Cosima’s bright gaze, quickened with the excitement of discussion, drifting more and more often to Delphine as she unpacked her subject matter.

Dr. Leekie quieted, speaking up only to add additional insights or to offer slight corrections--or mis-corrections, as more than once Cosima argued he was incorrect. He acceded these points goodnaturedly, but with a self-contained confidence that conveyed doubt that he was mistaken. Cosima, though, hardly seemed rattled; Delphine almost hazarded that at one point she looked unimpressed with Dr. Leekie’s display of self-assuredness. 

Delphine happened to glance over at Dr. Leekie once during one of Cosima’s more excited tirades and did a quick double-take. 

His expression was sharpened with an intensity of emotion that Delphine would have pinpointed as pride. 

All the while dish after sumptuous dish came and went, small portions that alerted Delphine they were in store for a lengthy tasting menu. Her wine glass emptied, was refilled by Dr. Leekie, depleted apace again. Talking came easier. Delphine just about forgot how the evening had even begun.

“I see now,” Delphine said to Cosima, “how you have been at the DYAD Institute for so long.”

Dr. Leekie raised an eyebrow. “Cosima mentioned that, did she? Yes, she joined us--how many years ago now, Cosima?”

Cosima shook her head. “Seven years? Eight?”

“Yes, yes,” Dr. Leekie murmured. “It has been that long.” He turned to Delphine, that conspiratorial air entering his mien. “I knew when I met her that she had a unique perspective to offer us.”

“Please, Dr. Leekie,” said Cosima, a bit sharply. To Delphine, she added, “He’s lying. I was just a geek girl from Berkeley.”

“Lying?” Dr. Leekie repeated with a little laugh. “I think every day you prove me right.”

“Now he’s seeking validation,” Cosima said sotto voce, holding Delphine’s eye. 

“The validation of seeing you succeed hardly seems delusional or dastardly,” Dr. Leekie countered. Cosima’s lips thinned and she ducked her head, quiet. The hint of a smile upon Dr. Leekie’s lips asserted a small victory. His attention returned to Delphine. “Of course, I’d like to see every one of our employees given the opportunity to pursue their goals and succeed.”

With that Dr. Leekie placed Delphine center stage. Delphine’s throat went dry.

Cosima fed her a line. “What work did you do in Europe?”

Delphine stretched for her wine glass, sipped, and wet her lips. Delicately she replaced the glass upon the table and then raised her eyes to Cosima. The brunette leaned upon the table, elbows pressed together and resting on the tabletop, inclined slightly toward Delphine. Delphine focused on her, on Cosima’s open and interested expression, and described, haltingly, her work under Dr. Novak examining conditions of incitement of various autoimmune diseases. Cosima’s attention didn’t waver. She guided and prodded Delphine’s narrative with questions. Answering her, breaking down the specifics of her research, settled Delphine into the comfort of a familiar topic. Her words flowed smoother, less and less formally and rote as Cosima spiked their exchanges with jokes and self-deprecating bewilderment. Her colleague was an eager student and their discussion began to take on shades of the scheduled blocks Delphine had passed in office hours as a teacher’s assistant. But Cosima was far keener than any student Delphine had ever encountered, the light in her eyes growing more intensely engaged the more Delphine explained the nature, onset, and development of autoimmune diseases. Dr. Leekie, for his part, mostly kept his silence, leaving the two women to talk themselves husky. By his hand the rest of the bottle of wine found its way into their glasses and the waiter, flitting by now and again, was waved off. 

Over dessert, Cosima relented. “What are the DYAD facilities like in Europe? Are they different?”

“Not so much different from here, I’d say,” Delphine said. “Except maybe you hear many more languages.”

“But everyone speaks English, right?”

“Of course,” Delphine scoffed, but teasingly. Cosima rolled her eyes.

“I’ve wanted to see them,” Cosima muttered.

“The Europe branches?” 

Cosima nodded. “Yeah.”

Dr. Leekie, elbows upon the table and hands folded before him, raised a finger. “Not anytime soon.”

“Why not?” Cosima asked, spinning a fork in one hand.

“Your dissertation isn’t going to finish itself.”

Cosima scowled. “And if I finish my dissertation, would you let me go to Europe?”

Cosima was seeking permission, Delphine realized. No, challenging for it. It pinged to Delphine as strange, but for what reasons her food- and wine-addled faculties couldn't grasp at the moment. 

"That may not be in your best interests," Dr. Leekie chided. "Especially now."

Cosima's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

"It means that we can discuss it again when the time is right. For now, though," he declared, consulting his watch, "the time is getting late. And I expect _you_ \--" He looked piercingly at Cosima. "--in my office tomorrow at nine a.m., sharp. Shall we?"

Delphine looked to Cosima, who stared hard at Dr. Leekie, features set into rigid lines and gaze flat. Her jaw clenched and unclenched, broadcast in the little tics around her mouth. Then she got to her feet and gathered her things. Dr. Leekie followed suit. Delphine scurried to catch up. 

Dinner was over.

*

The town car rolled off, taillights pinpoints in the mostly empty lot, little beacons that Delphine watched drift away. She wondered if she’d been overly enthusiastic in expressing her gratitude to Dr. Leekie for the evening. They’d passed some small talk on the car ride back to the Institute, mostly about Dr. Novak, whom Dr. Leekie complimented and spoke of with respect.

Delphine sighed. 

“Are you parked close by?” Cosima asked. Delphine turned sharply, heart leaping, having thought the other woman had already wandered off. Earlier, getting into the car, Cosima had climbed into the front passenger seat without a word and sat the entire journey wordlessly staring out the window. The moment the car had stopped moving, she’d tossed a thank you for the dinner, a good night, and a goodbye into the back seat and stepped out.

Now, though, Cosima stood beside her, smiling, appearing calm and relaxed. A tint of apology colored her expression as she seemed to realize she’d startled Delphine, who took a moment to catch her breath. Delphine swallowed and then gestured vaguely out into the lot. “Not so far. Just over there.”

“Let me walk you to your car,” Cosima said. “It can be creepy being all alone out here at night.”

Delphine hesitated. “Okay.”

They set out over the asphalt and fell into andante step. They were quiet for the first few strides. Cosima studied the night sky and the few stars visible through the glare of the parking lot lampposts and then dropped her gaze to her boot tips. Delphine rubbed her arms and wished she had brought a sweater or cardigan.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Cosima said abruptly, “for letting me join you for dinner. I know that I was--that I intruded.”

Delphine considered Cosima, who wouldn’t quite look at her but through her lashes, expression troubled. 

“No,” Delphine said measuredly, “not at all. I feel like maybe I should thank you for coming. It felt--it felt comfortable having you there. It would have been much harder, I think, to have to speak to Dr. Leekie alone.”

Cosima chuckled, the line of her shoulders easing up. “Yeah, he can be a bit intimidating.”

Delphine’s eyebrows rose. “I would not think Dr. Leekie intimidates you at all from the way you speak with him.”

A smile pulled up half of Cosima’s mouth. Tone dry, she said, “We’ve known each other a long time.”

“It is easy to see,” Delphine commented. She moistened her lips. “There was something maybe you can explain to me?”

“Hm?”

“When the waiter saw me, he said something like . . .” Delphine groped for the exact wording. 

“Additional sparring partner,” Cosima provided.

Delphine nodded. “Yes. What did he mean?”

Cosima smiled in a way that suggested laughter but wasn’t actually accompanied by any. “Dr. Leekie and I have had some . . . spirited debates. We don’t always see eye-to-eye.” She sobered. “I’m sorry for how dinner ended. I wasn’t--I wasn’t thinking how you were there and that it wasn’t fair to you to bring up a personal matter.”

Delphine digested that. “No, it was . . . fine. Really. I--I enjoyed our discussions over the rest of dinner so--that was something small and I can forget it, if you want.”

Cosima grinned. “Could you?”

Delphine smiled. “Well, maybe not. I admit that I’ve been told that I am too curious for my own good. But I will put in a good word for Europe and say that you should go and see it.”

Cosima laughed. “Seems like I won’t get to any time soon. But . . .” The brunette’s head canted. “There may be a next best thing. I could get to know a little piece of Europe right here.”

Delphine looked at her in askance.

“That would be you,” Cosima clarified. Delphine guffawed and Cosima matched her with a chuckle. Settling down, Cosima’s expression softened. “It was fun . . . chatting tonight. I’d like to . . . discuss your research more, maybe? Learn what it’s like to study and work in Europe?”

Delphine nodded several times, slowly. “Sure. Yes. I’d like that, too.”

“Cool. Cool.” Cosima grinned, a little bashful. Then she looked around. “Um, where is your car?”

Delphine halted dead in her tracks and turned in a three-quarters circle. She spotted the vehicle. “Oh--I--sorry, I--I led us right past it.”

Cosima didn’t quite laugh, but her grin stayed plastered on her face as they backtracked the way they’d walked, sidled up to Delphine’s car, and bid each other good night.

“Thank you, for the company,” Delphine said as she stood in the space between her open car door and the exposed cabin.

“No problem. Any time,” Cosima assured her. “Talk to you again soon?”

Delphine drew a breath, pausing and not sure why, but nodded. Cosima smiled. 

Delphine offered to drive Cosima to her car, but Cosima declined. They held another round of good nights, Delphine climbed into her car, pulled the door shut, and just sat a while, absorbing her strange night. When she glanced out her window, Cosima was already well on her way.


	2. Chapter 2

She and Cosima began to pass workday lunch hours together. Rather, for the most part, Cosima appeared at irregular intervals and found Delphine at lunch time in the cafeteria. Whether Delphine was alone or with company, Cosima invariably found a seat to occupy at her table, sidling up with a smile or a grin and a cheery salutation. Their colleagues generally welcomed Cosima’s presence with warmth or passing familiarity, with just about everyone inquiring about her dissertation. Polite questions and ribbing alike were met with equanimity and answered with Cosima’s own cursory survey of each individual’s research and expertise.

In the company of their colleagues Cosima listened well and laughed easily, switching between respectful courtesy with the established personalities and casual playfulness with their contemporary peers--and, with the oft quieter Delphine, a penchant for catching her eye, slipping her a smile, projecting the suggestion of a laugh, sly exchanges that caught Delphine off guard until the frequency of their occurrence had her hunting these discreet moments like snatched secrets.

Cosima was different in the privacy of a tête-à-tête. Sometimes chattier, fond of introducing random topics--cuisines and restaurants, films and television shows, a news story--and garnering Delphine’s opinion on them. Sometimes reserved, prompting Delphine to do the talking with questions about the day’s work, about the other lab personnel, about what she had done over the weekend, about her life before coming to America, before joining DYAD, before university, back and back until Delphine laughed. 

“I have only lived so much history,” Delphine protested.

“There’s also the history that led to your existence,” Cosima argued. “You know, who your parents are, what they do, how they met . . . .” 

Delphine shook her head. “You are . . .”

“Incorrigible?” Cosima suggested. “Insatiable?” 

“A brat,” Delphine finished.

“Or that,” Cosima conceded. She smirked. "Personally, I'd just call me curious."

"Brat!" Delphine exclaimed, laughing. 

Yet when Delphine turned the tables, Cosima played fair. She talked freely about growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area. How she was the product of hippies-turned-intellectuals. That, upon reflection, her parents had pretty much given her freedom to run wild, but with the expectation that she apply herself. How by the encouragement of their example she’d ended up shamelessly curious, pierced, and tattooed.

“Your parents sound the opposite of mine,” Delphine remarked.

“Really? Were they strict?”

“No, not particularly,” Delphine said slowly. “They are . . . quiet people? I think you might say conservative.”

“Yeah? What about you?” Cosima brought her glittering inquisitive gaze to bear on Delphine. “Are you conservative?”

Delphine smiled and laughed softly, amusement disguising a frisson of disquiet beneath the scrutiny. “I would say . . . How did you describe you and Dr. Leekie? That you do not always see eye-to-eye? My relationship with my parents is similar. They are proud of me, but I don’t think they . . . mmm . . . understand my--my ambition, my passion.”

Cosima’s eyebrows lifted. “What do you mean? Like, they don’t get your love for science?”

“I think,” Delphine said carefully, eyes narrowing as she searched for the appropriate wording, “they thought that I would be . . . settled down by now.”

“You mean like married?” Cosima rephrased.

“Yes.” Delphine’s gaze drifted about. “But instead I am here, an ocean away, doing things they don’t really understand. They know that I am not curing cancer and that is about it.”

Cosima chuckled and Delphine smiled. From behind her glasses, Cosima’s eyes skimmed over Delphine’s features. “What about you? Did you expect to be married by now?”

“I don’t know,” Delphine answered. “I guess I . . . supposed it would happen when it happened. But--” She shrugged. “One thing followed another and--it didn’t.”

“So,” Cosima said slowly, “there’s no lucky--person waiting for you on the other side of the Atlantic?”

Delphine laughed. “No. No one like that.” She considered Cosima. “You? Do you have a special someone?”

Cosima studied the tabletop, lips twisted into the semblance of a faint smile. “Nah. I’m so busy managing all the things I have on my plate that, like you said, it’s--hard to find time.”

A note of melancholy or regret or wistfulness lurked beneath her tone and nestled in Delphine’s ear, putting the topic to rest. But, as Delphine discovered, it might have proved less effort to pursue that particular subject than the one that met continually with terse responses: Cosima’s affiliation with DYAD.

Cosima spoke openly of using the Institute’s cutting-edge facilities to conduct experiments for her dissertation, of papers that had been published by the Institute’s leading thinkers and her views on their authors, of projects she had known that met languishing and ignoble fates in diminishing results. But of her own employment and initiation into the Institute, she would say only, “Oh, Dr. Leekie sort of found me after I graduated,” or “You could say I’ve done a little bit of everything. I’ve played assistant to probably every head in the microbiology department at one point or another. Dr. Leekie encourages me to ‘expose myself to possibilities,’” or “I thought working on my doctorate would have taken me away from the Institute but . . . they’ve actually been quite accommodating. The deal is that I have to be up to snuff if I want to take advantage of company resources.” The roundabout answers sounded normal enough until repeated, like an experiment returning faithful results, Delphine heeded that Cosima skirted specifics: whens, whys, hows.

“You know, I don’t really remember,” Cosima would say, not quite meeting Delphine’s eyes, not quite looking away.

Delphine wondered sometimes if, instead of simply being evasive, perhaps Cosima really didn’t remember or if she was outright reluctant to remember at all.

*

Sometimes Cosima snuck up wan and tired, dark circles beneath her eyes that bled their bruised testimony through layers of concealer. She was no less predisposed to smiling, only less energetically, focus susceptible to wandering off and away. The first time Delphine noticed a band-aid in the crook of Cosima’s elbow, she couldn’t help but ask, “Did you have a doctor’s visit?”

Cosima glanced down, following the line of Delphine’s sight. Her opposite hand moved as if to cover the band-aid, paused mid-motion, and fell back to her side. Cosima shrugged. “Yeah.”

Delphine peered into Cosima’s face. “Did you have blood drawn?” 

Cosima’s eyebrows rose. “Why do you ask?”

“So I can determine the appropriate level of concern in asking if you have eaten.” 

A smile languidly took possession of Cosima’s lips. “I had some juice--and a cookie--on my way over.”

Delphine tutted. “You should eat properly after having blood drawn.”

Cosima made a face. “Yes, mother.” She brightened. “You know what would make me feel better?”

“What?”

Cosima grinned. “Ice cream.”

*

With those two words--and some cajoling and an overlong lunch break--their meetups slipped out beyond the walls of the DYAD Institute and seeped into the city, into its restaurants and cafes and ice cream shops, its cinemas and shopping malls, a Saturday morning at a museum, a Sunday picnic at the park, the sunlight bordering on hot upon bare skin and picking out the links and gems in their jewelry, the inkwork upon Cosima’s forearms, the highlights in Delphine’s hair, striking off the white pages of Cosima’s notebook to render them almost blinding, as blurred as the days and weeks running together.

Delphine had made a friend.

*

“Hello? Cosima?”

Delphine should have known when Cosima bothered to call rather than text her that the ensuing conversation would be more than just a quick question or a casual chat. But Delphine had been mired in an article, in the process of switching between PDF file and browser to translate a term, when the stock ringtone had interrupted the task. She’d spared her phone enough thought to recognize Cosima’s name on the caller ID, accept the call, and mash the speaker against her ear. 

“Hey,” Cosima greeted her brightly. “How ya doing? What’s up?”

Delphine hesitated, lending her caller more of her attention. “Um, nothing. Just doing some work.”

“Work? Like work work?” Cosima asked. “Are you _at_ work?”

“Ah, no, I’m at home. I’m catching up on some research that I didn’t finish during the week.” Delphine cradled the phone between her head and shoulder and typed the troublesome term into the dictionary search box. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh. Just. Um. I’m, uh, in your neck of the woods.”

Delphine frowned and took the phone in hand, adjusting its angle to hear better. “Pardon?” 

Cosima laughed. “It means, um, that I’m near your neighborhood. And since I’m here, I thought I’d ask if you want to meet me for a coffee or something.”

Delphine nodded. “Ah,” she intoned, dragging it out as she considered the prospect. She shook her head, though Cosima couldn’t see it. “No, sorry, I should . . . probably finish this. I have to present it next week.”

There was a pause. “Do you want me to bring you coffee?”

Delphine laughed.

“I’m serious,” Cosima said.

Delphine's humor faded in a rush of apprehension. “No no no,” Delphine said quickly, “I couldn’t ask you to go through the trouble.”

“You’re not asking,” Cosima said and Delphine could picture her smirk, “I’m offering. I bet I could even help you. You’re working on something for Doc Delaney, right?”

Delphine blinked. Hesitantly, she confirmed Cosima’s inquiry. “Yes.”

“Some kind of comparative progress report,” Cosima drawled, “where you summarize projects similar to the one he’s conducting and break down the methodologies.”

“Yes,” Delphine affirmed, even slower.

“Yeah, that’s pretty standard for Delaney. If it feels like a test, it’s because it is. He wants to see what you know and to gauge your research skills. But,” Cosima continued, amusement coloring her tone, “the part Delaney didn’t mention is that you’ll want to emphasize experiments that have been debunked or criticized for their methods. It’ll stroke his ego. I could probably show you a similar assignment I did for him years ago and some of it would probably still be relevant.”

Delphine smiled. “I see.”

“So?” Cosima prodded.

Delphine tilted her head. “So what?” 

“Shall I bring you coffee and lend you a hand?”

Delphine glanced around her apartment and eyed the stacks of unpacked boxes and sadly bare shelves that served as stark testament to her uprooted life and unsettled relocation, even weeks after the move. Her silent deliberation consumed enough time that Cosima said, “You can say no. No pressure.”

Delphine rubbed her forehead. “It’s--this is embarrassing. My place is a mess. It’s not fit for company.”

Cosima laughed. “Dude, your place probably has nothing on my place.”

“Really?” Delphine thought of the clothing in her bedroom still sitting in the boxes she’d shipped them in. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, for real. You’re free to come over and see for yourself.”

Delphine ran a hand through her hair and shook her head, smiling.

“So?” Cosima prompted again.

Delphine bit her lower lip. “Shouldn’t you be working on your dissertation?”

Cosima groaned. “Really? Are you really going to pull that card on me? Can’t I get one day where no one asks me about my dissertation and instead I get to bug other people about things they should be working on?”

Delphine chuckled. “Okay. Fine.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips. “Sure. Yes, I would appreciate coffee, thank you.” 

“Awesome.” Delphine could hear the grin in Cosima’s words. “Send me your address.”

*

They resided in opposite directions. For the most part, that geography had postponed this moment, the knock at Delphine's door, the distorted sight of Cosima through the peephole, the rattle of the doorknob and the creak of the hinges as Delphine swung the door inward to welcome her visitor. Cosima smiled at her, hands full with a drink carrier of iced coffee confections in one and a plastic bag of takeout containers in the other, purse and--to Delphine's surprise--laptop bag hanging from one shoulder.

"Hey," Delphine greeted her, disbelief and delight carrying her voice higher. "What is all this?"

"Fuel," Cosima answered cheerily. "There's a really good Thai place around here. Do you like Thai? I got some curry wraps, red curry, and pad Thai. The curry is spicy, but the pad Thai isn't, just in case spicy isn’t your thing."

Delphine shook her head, robbed of words, and then simply exhaled. “Thank you. You didn’t have to, really. Bringing coffee was more than enough already. Here, let me take something." 

Seeing that the drink carrier didn’t have a handle and required more effort to balance, Delphine relieved Cosima of the beverages, taking the tray firmly in hand. She stepped back to admit Cosima, who crossed the threshold and edged around her host self-consciously, hovering close instead of wandering deeper past the foyer. Her dark-rimmed eyes skimmed ahead into what she could see of the two-bedroom, the furniture and utilitarian light fixtures arranged in spaces largely undecorated, the walls a creamy unadorned white made brilliant by the sunlight streaming through the open curtains, the kitchenette featuring a few appliances upon the countertops and a serviceable dining table, bookshelves shoved against walls and into corners empty and waiting. Delphine had stacked and shoved unpacked boxes into other available corners or near where the contents would be dispersed--the bookshelves were cozily fortified by impressive towers--and, looking at it from the entrance, sheepishness seized her. At least she had closed the door leading to her bedroom and the room she had converted into an office.

"Sorry, it's a mess, I know," Delphine said, closing the door and locking it.

Cosima laughed. "What are you talking about? Your place isn't a mess, it's just still in boxes. That's totally different. It's kind of," Her free hand churned the air, "the opposite of a mess because everything is still packed away."

"Perhaps, but it's still embarrassing."

Cosima shifted her weight. "Well, if you're so embarrassed, let's knock out this report and then get you unpacked."

Delphine laughed, moving toward the dining table and gesturing for Cosima to follow her. "Yes, and then afterwards we'll work on your dissertation."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Cosima agreed brightly.

Delphine halted and stared at Cosima, her laughter settled into an uncertain smile. "I was joking."

Cosima shrugged. "I wasn't.”

"No! No, you’re my guest. You're not here to do chores around my flat. You've already done too much."

“I wouldn’t mind, you know--oh, shoes on or off?”

Delphine moved to set the drinks down on the table and waved a hand carelessly. “You can leave them on if you want. And I would mind; I’m not putting you to work.”

“Is it okay if I just leave my shoes by the door?” Without waiting for an answer, Cosima stepped out of her shoes, coming down to her actual height, and nudged the footwear into a spot by the door. “Helping you unpack would be way more fun than working on my dissertation.”

Gathering up utensils from a drawer, Delphine shook her head. “So not only would you have me be a poor hostess and put you to work, you would make me an enabler of your procrastination.”

Putting down the plastic bag by the drinks, Cosima turned to Delphine, who was pulling out plates from a cabinet above the sink, and grinned. “Has anyone told you that your English vocabulary is really impressive?”

Delphine rolled her eyes and sidled up to Cosima, placing the plates down carefully but spilling the utensils onto the table in an undignified tumble that filled the air with the sharp ringing of metal on metal and wood. “Has anyone told you that you are a brat?”

“You, actually,” Cosima said, grin unwavering.

Delphine shook her head, but she felt answering amusement twisting her lips. “Why don’t you get comfortable and set up and I’ll go grab my laptop and things from my office.”

*

To Delphine’s somewhat dismay, once Cosima acquired the password to her wifi network, the American proved insightful and helpful researching and aggregating her report. She did, in fact, have a copy of her own past report for Dr. Delaney on file, which Delphine read with interest but refrained from poaching. Delphine wasn’t sure why she was surprised by Cosima’s efficient assistance. Cosima herself had mentioned that she’d worked with many of the senior DYAD personnel in one capacity or another, but Delphine hadn’t expected the focused and directed manner in which Cosima approached the assignment. The French scientist had to admit that Cosima’s mannerisms had inspired associations of “flighty” rather than “productive.” But with the two of them pulling up projects and explaining their specifics between sips of coffee and bites of Thai food--”Mmm!” Delphine had hummed at the first bites of each dish, alternating between mouthfuls of the sweet and tangy pad Thai noodles and the spicy curry with rice--they managed within a few scant hours to put together an outline that Delphine could pare down later into a quick presentation.

There was still sunlight to illuminate the apartment when their frenzy wound down. While Delphine ensured that every document was saved and important references were bookmarked, Cosima sat back from her laptop and lounged on the living room couch, legs drawn up onto the cushions, face turned into the warmth filtering through the windows. When Delphine glanced up, she caught a faint, contented smile upon Cosima’s lips, eyes distractedly taking in the blue of the clear sky outside.

After a moment, Delphine asked, “What is that smile for?”

Cosima shook her head slightly, turning her attention onto Delphine. “Nothing, really. I was thinking how this would be a nice place to work on my dissertation.”

Delphine raised an eyebrow. “Does your apartment not get much sunlight?”

“It’s not that,” Cosima said. “It gets plenty. But if I try to work on my dissertation there, I usually end up smoking pot and wasting half of the day.” Both of Delphine’s eyebrows shot up. Cosima shrugged. “It’s too comfortable and distracting there.”

Delphine nodded. “I spent a lot of time in libraries writing mine.” She hesitated. “If you would like some help with your dissertation, someone to talk to or discuss it with, I wouldn’t mind.”

Cosima smiled. “Thanks. I think I’m at the point where I need to stop talking about it, though. If I bring it up with Dr. Leekie, he keeps giving me more to think about and I just--I just need to tune everything out and focus on my conclusions and write the damn thing.” With a sigh, she flopped back against the couch and hung her head over the back of it. Her stillness lasted only a second before she twisted and eyed the empty bookshelf behind her. “You know, I was hoping to see what books you have.”

Delphine laughed. “They’re in the boxes over there. Go ahead, you can take a look if you want. Some of them are already open. Would you like some water? Or orange juice? I have orange juice.” She got to her feet, stretched her back, and headed for the kitchen to get herself a glass of water.

“No thanks,” Cosima said. She slithered off the couch and made her way to the indicated stacks. She opened the first box she encountered and pulled out the tomes on top, considered the volumes in her hands, and then set them horizontally on an empty bookshelf to free her hands. When Delphine returned with a glass in hand, half of the box rested haphazardly on the shelf, short a few choice titles that Cosima set aside in a separate pile on the floor beside her.

Delphine absorbed the potential problem of her invitation in a second. She knew at once that the books would not be going back into the box--and that if she left them to sit unarranged and carelessly piled on the shelves, it would bother her. A part of her considered telling Cosima to stop; she reminded herself she’d told Cosima to have a look. 

Detouring to set her glass down on the coffee table, Delphine soon found herself beside Cosima, contemplating the growing pile of spines that Cosima was stacking. Without much consideration Delphine snatched up handfuls and slid them upright vertically upon the shelves, then shuffled them into some vague semblance of order. A temporary arrangement, she hoped. 

Cosima glanced at her, paused, and then resumed her perusal of Delphine’s literature. Midway through the second box, Delphine was convinced that Cosima knew what she was doing, though the dreadlocked woman occasionally let out blithely innocent remarks about a title or other. They’d gotten well into the third box, Cosima cross-legged on the floor, Delphine bent to wrestle with a middle shelf, when Cosima pulled out _Neolution: The New Science of Self-Directed Evolution_.

Cosima held the book in boths hands and gazed down at the cover depicting Dr. Leekie. Craning her head back, she wiggled it at Delphine. “Have you read it?”

Delphine looked over to read the title. “Dr. Leekie’s book? Yes, of course.”

“What did you think about it?”

“Well,” Delphine said carefully, trying to decide if she would need to relocate a thicker book onto another shelf to make room for three smaller ones all on a similar topic, “the philosophy of Neolutionism strongly influences what we do at DYAD, don’t you think? Not just because Dr. Leekie is one of the guiding thinkers of the Institute, but the type of experimental research we conduct contributes towards realizing the technology to allow for self-determination.”

“But what about,” Cosima started and stopped.

“Hm?” Delphine prompted.

Cosima ducked her head and ran a hand across the electric cover. “Do you think that there should be limits? Like, on what we should be allowed to alter about--about our bodies or others’ bodies? Or on the experimentation that would allow us to achieve the technology that would make such alterations possible?”

Delphine’s movements slowed. She carefully nestled a book into a home and pivoted to consider Cosima’s bowed head. “What do you mean?”

“Like . . .” Cosima shrugged. “Human experimentation. Human trials.”

“There always comes a point,” Delphine said evenly, “when, say, medicine intended for human use needs to move from concept to implementation. We go from simulations or animal trials to actual human trials. Until we take that step, we never really know the effectiveness and side effects of those ideas on humans.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Cosima said. “I meant more like--” She shook her head. “Forget it.”

Delphine frowned at her, uncomprehending. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“No, no, just--never mind. I’m not making sense.” Cosima sat up straighter and patted one of the unopened boxes, turning a smile that strained at the corners onto Delphine. “Do you have a knife or scissors? I’m going to need something to open this box.”

It took a moment for Delphine’s frown to abate, for her to decide not to pursue the topic, to not ask Cosima there and then while her American colleague held the book extolling its philosophy about her views on Neolutionism. Instead Delphine shook her head. “You know what you’re doing, right?”

“What?” Cosima said. “What am I doing?”

Delphine shook her head. “The scissors are in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

*

The subtle shift of Dr. Delaney's line of sight over Delphine's shoulder warned her that something or someone was behind her. She turned to investigate just as an arm reached around her and deposited on the table, beside her cleared lunch plate, a potted spiny plant. The singular oddity of the plant’s appearance briefly stole Delphine’s attention before she tracked back to its deliverer.

"What's this?" she asked Cosima, who stood behind her chair and grinned down at her. 

"A zebra plant.” Cosima gestured at the green-and-white-striped urchin-like plant with a hand. “ _Haworthia attenuata._ For your place, because you have no plants and you should."

Sitting to the right of Delphine, Dr. Delaney’s gaze wafted breezily over the plant and Cosima alike, while on her other side Dr. Adrian Kettner, a more recent hire like Delphine, studied both with banked interest. 

"Thank you?" Delphine hazarded and heard the rising lilt of uncertainty that snagged her voice at the end. She smothered a wince.

Cosima’s grin eased into a residual smile. "It's a low maintenance plant. You don’t need to water it too much, like maybe once a week or once every two weeks when the soil dries out. It’s pretty forgiving if you forget about it--just don’t forget about it for too long."

"Okay," Delphine acknowledged, "but won't you sit down and join us?"

Cosima shook her head. "Can't, sorry. I just wanted to drop that off." She flashed a smile at both of Delphine’s table companions, a crafty glint entering her eyes when she turned to Dr. Delaney. "Sorry to interrupt. I'll take off now." She caught Delphine's eye and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Bye."

With that, Cosima took her leave as abruptly as she had appeared. They all watched her go, but properly righting in her seat, Delphine twisted directly into the awareness of Dr. Delaney’s intense scrutiny. Her skin prickled beneath his pale measuring gaze. Then he glanced at Adrian, consideration cooling. 

Delphine breathed out softly. 

"Have a care," Dr. Delaney said simply, to the both of them. Delphine’s lips parted and a furrow rent her brow. But Dr. Delaney said no more and when Delphine turned to Adrian he shrugged at her minutely. There was a question in her colleague’s eyes, however, that Delphine felt mirrored her own. 

The succulent plant, in its little clay pot, provided no answers, not when she carried it from the cafeteria to her small office, or from her office desk to her car, or from the passenger seat to her apartment, or from the front door to a windowsill. It sat mum and imperturbable, beautiful in appearance but also a bit alarming, not unlike the bearer who had handed it into Delphine’s possession.

*

Dr. Delaney’s words lingered in Delphine’s mind.

*

Everyone at DYAD was polite. Cosima especially. When they happened upon one another--when Cosima ghosted her way into the midst of a group of coworkers--there followed greetings, questions after one another’s health, discussions of projects and progress and setbacks, and these little lulls, these tics in between the customary topics like stutters trailing off into uncertainty. Everyone was always smiles or civility and Cosima’s face held all the stillness of an ocean surface, but she often stood just slightly apart, outside, a step removed from the intimacy of a circle, a gathering. At a table she sat contained to her chair, pressed or slumped against the backrest. She never asked about anyone’s weekend or their plans for the end of the day, nor inquired after significant others or families, though conversation might turn that way and make its rounds through the persons present.

And seldom did anyone ask Cosima these things in turn.

*

When others spoke Cosima listened. Delphine knew she listened. She watched the way Cosima fixed on a speaker, eyes narrowed just the slightest, head sometimes tilted, focused. And how, with no one observing--no one but Delphine, who at times felt like the only one mindful of Cosima’s presence, who didn’t fidget or sneak jerky or furtive glances at Cosima or direct her sight away altogether as time wore on--tautness slitted her eyes behind her glasses and stiffened the line of her jaw.

Cosima didn't loiter, if she had nothing to contribute, if her silence stretched unduly long. She bustled off, sooner than later, excusing herself with a minimum of fuss.

She seemed always to say goodbye to Delphine, with a direct farewell, or by holding her eyes, or offering a slight nod, or, should they be standing close, a fleeting touch upon her arm.

Only now Delphine saw the eyes around them taking note.

*

Delphine supposed if her colleagues hadn't warmed up to her, if her own conversations with them didn't traverse the spectrum of amiable and professional and casual, if this American branch of the DYAD Institute didn't possess a generally comfortable work environment for a woman in science, if she didn't receive invitations to go out for drinks after hours or was informed about random company and non-company events, if Cosima herself wasn't personable and animated and engaging, Delphine might not have remarked that Cosima did not appear at these outings, that no one mentioned seeing Cosima outside of work, that cool civility meeting cool civility was just that, like repelling like, and that from everyone else issued a muted curiosity that seemed to have no connection to what Delphine knew of Cosima--her American West Coast background, her studies, her intellect--and everything to do with what none of them seemed privy to.

*

Adrian Kettner intercepted Delphine in the hallway as she wandered out of the cafeteria after a lunch break passed with Cosima. He smiled at her, which softened his angular features into youthfully boyish despite his goatee and close age to Delphine, and fell into step with her. Adrian had been hired not long before Delphine had arrived on US soil and their new recruit discombobulation had established a sense of sympathy between them that had evolved into a more familiar workplace camaraderie. He was lanky, yet handsome, a little shy in a manner that often made Delphine feel older, and as guilty of drifting away caught in the undertow of his own thoughts as any of the rest of them. The first thing about him that had struck Delphine had been his eyes, brilliantly blue, that now flicked restlessly between Delphine's face and over his shoulder, back in the direction of the cafeteria.

"You had lunch with Cosima?" he asked somewhat abruptly in the middle of a discussion about what lab tests and analyses were planned for the rest of the day. 

"Yes," Delphine acknowledged. 

Adrian bounced on his toes, his stride light and jerky. "She seems nice."

Delphine weighed his words. "She is."

Adrian's lips mashed into a dash before he blurted, "She reminds me of a girl I dated."

Laughter burst out of Delphine, explosive and ringing. The force of it momentarily diverted the course of her steps and almost sent her careening into a wall. She recovered, steadied herself, and lifted one hand to screen her reaction and the other to wave apologetically. 

"A little," Adrian amended. A rueful lopsided grin dominated his mouth. "I think it's the way she talks with her hands. My ex used to gesture a lot."

Delphine nodded, suppressing residual giggles. His words fell upon Delphine's ears with a faint chime of reassurance. She'd been bracing for the occasion when Adrian's blue-eyed consideration translated into a proposal for drinks, though not in the sense of two people buying drinks and companionably drowning away the stress of the day, but that he would buy her a drink, not as her colleague, but as a man, whether she was aware of his intentions or not. It happened. More often than Delphine was comfortable admitting, more often than she wanted to deal with. 

Relieved of a tension she hadn't known she'd been carrying, Delphine wiped away the amusement of her smile with her fingertips and dialed her expression down to goodnaturedly humored. She regarded Adrian kindly. "She's single."

Adrian took his turn to laugh. 

"What's so funny?" Delphine asked, warming to the topic. "You are single, she is single. You are friendly, she is friendly. You love science, she loves science. You already have so much in common."

Adrian shook his head, grinning. He looked over at Delphine, the boyish air turning shrewd. "You know what they call her?"

Delphine sobered, mirth evaporating. She had an idea what he meant. She'd heard it said perhaps once or twice, quietly and out of Cosima's earshot: the Protege.

Adrian read her comprehension in her expression. "Cosima's out of my league."

Delphine frowned. "You mean because Cosima is close to Dr. Leekie?" She studied Adrian. "Does that make you afraid of her?"

They arrived at the door to their lab but hung back from entering, removing themselves from hall traffic by pressing close to the wall. Adrian avoided Delphine's eyes, discomfort distorting his features.

"Not afraid," Adrian hedged. 

Delphine crossed her arms. "Then what?" 

Adrian spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Doesn't it sort of feel like she's the boss's daughter?"

Delphine's eyebrows shot up. "And that makes you . . . hesitant to be around her? You don't think that's a reason to get close to her instead?"

Adrian was quiet, his expression closed. Delphine peered up into his face.

"Is that what they are saying about me?" Delphine hazarded. "That I am . . . currying favor by being her friend?"

"No," Adrian protested sharply, "no one says that about you."

"But they talk about me and my friendship with Cosima," Delphine deduced.

Adrian breathed out hard through his nose. "I didn't mean to bring this up. Can we just drop it?"

"What do they say?" Delphine pressed.

He put his face in his palm, then dragged his hand down so that it rested over his nose and mouth. He leveled his bright eyes on her. "No one is saying anything, okay? It's just--a vibe."

Delphine's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

Adrian crossed his arms, shoulders hunching, and braced himself against the wall. "Can we please drop it?"

"No. I'm a scientist. I want answers to mysteries."

Adrian's gaze went flat. His mouth twisted in resigned surrender. "You know what I mean, though. Do you remember what Dr. Delaney said to us once, the day that Cosima brought you that plant? To have a care? To be careful?"

Delphine nodded.

"Didn't you think that was weird?"

Delphine shrugged. "He could have meant anything. You know how he is."

"Yeah, but--" Adrian clamped his lips together.

"But what?"

He shook his head.

"What is it?" Delphine drew herself up. "Do you know something?"

"No," he said, curtly.

Delphine leaned toward him. "You know something."

He resolutely gazed off to the side.

"Adrian, what is it? Something bad?"

His head swayed side-to-side. "It's--nothing. A story. A rumor."

"Tell me."

"I shouldn't. It's probably not even true."

"Then it won't hurt to tell me."

His eyes returned to meet hers. He looked distinctly unimpressed and unconvinced.

"You've come this far," Delphine reasoned. "You might as well tell me."

He maintained bullish silence. 

"Is it a story about Cosima?"

"You're not going to drop it, are you?"

"I can always ask someone else."

Adrian cringed. A short battle played over his features that resolved in him leaning close. "Look, you can't tell Cosima."

Delphine resisted the instinct to take a step back. "If it's not true, I have no reason to mention it to her."

Adrian went slit-eyed in exasperation.

Delphine briefly touched his forearm. "Okay."

At her assent, he swept his gaze around them, checking to see if anyone might be listening. As he spoke, he maintained surveillance, never quite looking at Delphine. "What I heard is this: Years ago, Cosima dated a coworker here at DYAD. It didn't work out and they broke up. No one knows if she broke up with him or if he broke up with her, but the story goes that afterward things between them were tense. Then, a few weeks later, he got transferred."

For a few beats after he finished, Delphine stared at Adrian. "And people think he was transferred because he and Cosima didn't get along?"

Adrian shrugged. "That was the implication."

Delphine chuckled. "Seriously? Do you think it's true? I mean, honestly--that makes no sense, no matter how you look at it."

Adrian didn't laugh.

"You've met Cosima," Delphine argued, growing earnest. "Do you think she would ask to have someone transferred because she didn't like him?"

"Maybe she didn't ask."

"You think someone like _Dr. Leekie_ had someone transferred to make life easier for Cosima?"

Adrian said nothing. 

"Who says he didn't ask for a transfer himself? Or that the transfer was due to completely unrelated circumstances?"

Adrian ran a hand through his short locks. "I don't know, Delphine, I just overheard and that's--that's what it sounded like. I didn't ask any questions." He read her expression. "Don't get upset. Please. This is why I didn't want to tell you."

Delphine inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly. "Sorry. I'm not upset." She smiled at him crookedly. "I made you tell me, I know."

He didn't smile back. "It made me think about what Dr. Delaney said, about being careful."

"You think he meant to be careful around Cosima?"

"Maybe."

Delphine covered a snort with a gasp of a laugh. "Cosima and I are just friends. What danger is there in that?"

"I don't know but--" Adrian's gaze darted over Delphine's shoulder and he straightened up, hands falling to his sides. Delphine followed his example, turning to see Dr. Delaney nearing them. Their advisor looked between the two of them. 

"Going in?" Dr. Delaney said.

They both mumbled an affirmation and preceded Dr. Delaney into the lab. As they ducked inside, Delphine exchanged one final glance with Adrian, who met her eyes contritely. They didn't bring up the topic again.


	3. Chapter 3

Delphine didn't bring up the story--gossip, really--with Cosima, either. It didn't concern Delphine. It wasn't any of her business. Its veracity and particulars presented an interesting puzzle, without a doubt, but Delphine found that Cosima herself was a source of far more pressing and immediate mysteries. 

Like: "How can you--" Delphine struggled to articulate her disconcerted astonishment, then stopped, simply taking in the mountains of literature shoved amassed into corners, scarves, sweaters, tights, and camisoles littered across the surfaces and backs of furniture, and, of course, a panoply of plants, all vibrant, all pruned, arranged liberally in window and floor spaces. Unlike her own dwelling, the walls of Cosima's apartment came in rich, luscious earthy colors teased out by sunlight filtered through sheer gauzy curtains, carpet and throw pillows lending splashes of warm and dark accents, complemented by the greenery. Knickknacks aplenty, most of them science-related, took up decorative residence on available shelf space among curiously meticulously arranged sets of reference books. 

But no photos.

From the kitchen Cosima laughed. "I told you your place had nothing on my place. Sorry, I didn't get a chance to tidy up. The brownies weren't going to bake themselves."

The brownies.

Their baking concoction of eggs, flour, water, cocoa, butter, sugar, vanilla, baking powder, and--most importantly for today's purposes--pot filled the apartment with a chocolatey tempting aroma. 

And, apparently from the way that Cosima was dropping spoonful dollops of dough onto a tray, there'd be cookies, too.

"Are we really going to do this?" Delphine asked.

"Am I really going to spend Saturday getting you _so_ baked on my awesome brownies?" Cosima quipped. "Yes. Obvs."

*

There were, too, more personal matters to divert Delphine's attention from the vagaries of Cosima's reputation.

"Here's a sight for sore eyes."

Delphine spun in her tracks, an uncertain smile stretching like a raised shield across her lips, only to relax--slightly--at the sight of the approaching figure. "Dr. Leekie. You're back."

"And I couldn't have asked to be greeted by a fairer face." He smiled at her, crinkled eyes taking her in. "Good morning, Delphine. Ah, let me."

"That's--" Delphine began to protest, but Dr. Leekie strode ahead and opened the door, holding it open and gesturing for her to precede him. "Thank you," she murmured as she scurried inside. 

"You're very welcome," he replied goodnaturedly, falling into step effortlessly. The security officer at the front desk--Reggie today; Cosima had a habit of addressing each by name in passing and Delphine realized she was assimilating their identities vicariously--waved them both through. 

"I'm glad I ran into you," Dr. Leekie said, matching her pace and remaining steady by her side. "We never took the time to discuss your future plans here at DYAD."

"Ah, yes," Delphine concurred, awkwardly, but had no time to water any seeds of mortification before Dr. Leekie took her gently by the elbow and guided her aside by the bank of elevators. 

"I had a chance to speak with Dr. Novak recently," he said, his smile reassuring. "He spoke highly of your work with him, said that he hoped, in fact, to one day steal you back."

Delphine laughed softly, to cover her embarrassment. "Dr. Novak's work on autoimmune diseases is very fascinating. It was a privilege to work with him and to have the opportunity to learn so much."

"Indeed," Dr. Leekie agreed. "But seeing how Dr. Novak misses you, I wondered if you missed being over there."

The line of inquiry slipped past Delphine's guard. "I can't deny that Europe feels more like home, but America has its charms and everyone here has been very welcoming. I can't complain."

Dr. Leekie smiled, pleased. "Good. It gladdens me to see more young women joining our ranks. I know it can be challenging, even lonely in our field."

His kindness emitted consideration, but Delphine's brow furrowed. "Do you mean you know because of . . . Cosima?"

Dr. Leekie's smile deepened at the corners. "Yes. Cosima. I hope that young minds like the two of yours will support each other. The both of you could have very bright futures here."

Unsure how she was expected to respond, Delphine said slowly, "Cosima is . . ." She looked away briefly, glimpsing the photographs lined up on the wall showcasing generations of DYAD scientists who had come, remained, gone. ". . . unlike anyone I've met before."

Dr. Leekie chuckled. "She certainly leaves an impression." He raised his wrist, pushed back his shirt cuff, and consulted his watch. "I have to run, but I haven't forgotten we still haven't had our talk. _Adieu_ , Dr. Cormier. Until then."

"Yes," breathed Delphine. "Thank you, Dr. Leekie. Until then. _Ciao._ "

She watched him go. Dr. Leekie hadn't forgotten, but Delphine had, a part of her convinced that that dinner had been an act of generosity or a fluke of whim altogether, a flirtation with Fortune.

It felt like it had happened so long ago.

*

There was a funny detail in those DYAD photographs, as Delphine discovered the day building maintenance produced a swell of personnel milling in wait for the sole operating car. In one of the photographs, at least. In it a little girl, posed innocuously off to the side of a middle row, stood erect, chin raised and looking directly at the camera. She was small, young, dark hair braided in twin tails, attired in a Peter-Pan-collared dress, folded-down lacy socks and Mary Janes on her feet, projecting the air of belonging but anomalous all the same among the coterie of adult figures. A daughter of one of the scientists, possibly. Delphine studied her mindlessly. After a minute, the child's features began to take on a vague familiarity. In fact, she resembled--that was, without the glasses--but that would have been--

No.

Delphine shook her head, denying the possibility to herself. 

But if she _squinted_ , the girl sort of did look like Cosima. 

Delphine squinted. It was a rather wide shot, rendering the child just a tiny form. With the distance and the quality--

The elevator sounded its arrival. Bodies jostled for position--politely, but only as politely as a sense of entitlement of place could afford--and squeezed in among their number Delphine was whisked away from her conjectural fancies.

It just couldn't have been Cosima. 

But much later, checking an email to which her mother had attached a photograph, the wily circuitry of association conducted the DYAD portrait to the forefront of Delphine's thoughts. 

"Cosima," she said to her lunch companion.

"Hm?" Cosima hummed around a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly on wheat. 

"How long did you say you've been at DYAD?"

Cosima's chin dimpled in thought as she chewed and swallowed. "About . . . seven years? Eight?"

"And before then? You hadn't paid visit to any of the DYAD branches or anything like that?"

Cosima shook her head, tongue snatching up a smear of jam at the corner of her mouth. "No. Why are you asking?"

Delphine debated mentioning the girl in the photograph, but a brief review of her suspicions concluded she was silly. The photograph had been taken when the girl had been young and physical features changed with development and puberty. Plus, though she hadn't asked, Delphine always imagined that Cosima had been wearing glasses for a long time. (Or she lacked sufficient imagination to picture Cosima without them.)

Which was to say: The little girl wasn't Cosima.

Delphine waved off her friend. "Nothing. No reason."

"Aw, c'mon, don't do that," Cosima grumbled, shaking a half-eaten half of a sandwich at Delphine. "Tell me."

"No, really. Nothing," Delphine insisted and continued to insist as Cosima devoted a minute to pursuing the impetus behind Delphine's inquiry. 

Delphine didn't tell her. By that point it was, to the protraction of Cosima's wheedling misery, more fun to withhold.

*

"Delphine."

Delphine raised her head from scribbling in her notebook, gaped, and sank back into her chair, any sense of grace overwhelmed by surprise. "Dr. Leekie!"

The DYAD cafeteria was one of the last places in the building that Delphine would have expected to run into the director. He smiled, towering over her seated person, a folder pinched between the fingers of both hands.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Fine, thank you," she replied. "And you?"

"Favored by fortune, it seems," he said. "I was passing by and it occurred to me I might find you here--and here you are."

"You were looking for me?" Delphine asked.

"You came up in my thoughts when this arrived on my desk." He tapped the spine edge of the folder against the palm of one hand. "Dr. Novak considered this case important enough to bring to my attention, and since you worked under Novak, I thought maybe you could give it a look."

Delphine's brows furrowed. "What is it?"

"A medical case," Dr. Leekie said. He held the folder out to Delphine. "Very perplexing." 

Delphine accepted the folder from him and set it down beside her plate of salad, shifting her lunch and notebook aside to allocate more room. She opened the file as Dr. Leekie explained: "About a few months ago, the patient began to exhibit symptoms. Trouble breathing. Shortness of breath. Coughing up blood."

Delphine nodded, scanning over the charts--high lymphocyte count; cancer?--and notes.

Dr. Leekie leaned over slightly to peer over her shoulder. "Attempts to identify the disease have proven so far unsuccessful."

"Cancer?" Delphine voiced her initial guess. "If not, maybe cystic fibrosis? Antitrypsin deficiency?"

"No," Dr. Leekie answered gravely. "The working hypothesis is that the disease may be autoimmune in nature."

Delphine flipped through the bound pages. "If it's affecting the lungs . . . Wegener's Granulomatosis? Is there a history of asthma? Perhaps Churg-Strauss Syndrome?"

She glanced up to acquire visual confirmation and found a little smile on Dr. Leekie's face. In the next moment he sighed, expelling all traces of levity, and shook his head.

"As far as has been determined, no, neither of those. Immunosuppressives are being administered but tests suggest they're only having limited effect."

"Then--"

"Hey," a voice interrupted them. Both Delphine and Dr. Leekie turned to see Cosima approaching them at a measured pace, eyes darting between one and the other. "What's going on? Is this a party? Was I not invited?"

Without taking his eyes off their diminutive intruder, Dr. Leekie nudged the file closed over Delphine's fingers. Delphine, taking his cue, discreetly set down the folder and pushed it away from herself.

"Hello, Cosima," Dr. Leekie greeted her. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine, thanks," Cosima supplied automatically, studying Delphine, glancing at the folder. "What are we chatting about? Something pretty interesting, by the looks of it." Her eyes went to Dr. Leekie's face. "Probably not what color curtains you should get in your office, because I keep telling you to get blackout curtains and you never listen." Her attention targeted Delphine again. "So--wanna share?" 

"It's nothing of concern to you," Dr. Leekie assured her. 

Cosima looked between Dr. Leekie and Delphine again. "You mean it's something above my slave grade."

"I mean," Dr. Leekie said patiently, placing a hand on Cosima's shoulder, "it's a distraction you don't need."

"But Delphine does?" Cosima volleyed, face tight.

"Just a little something she might like to think about." Dr. Leekie glanced over at Delphine. "Isn't that so, Dr. Cormier?"

Delphine avoided Cosima's eyes and managed a soft, "Y-yes." 

"See?" Dr. Leekie crowed. It was clear by the hard, sharpened glare that Cosima directed through Dr. Leekie's visage that Cosima did not see at all. He squeezed Cosima's shoulder, heedless and undaunted. "I'll let you and Delphine enjoy lunch."

With that and without a glance at it, Dr. Leekie casually reclaimed the folder. Offering no quarter for objections, he bid them a genial goodbye and ambled off unperturbed. 

Cosima tracked his departure until he disappeared beyond the doors. Only then did she sit down, without a word.

*

Delphine tensed in anticipation of what she predicted would be the opening salvo of an interrogation. But Cosima took one glance into Delphine's face, dropped her eyes to a study of the tabletop, and merely sighed. The vitality leached out of her frame as if someone had snatched nuts and bolts out of mechanical joints and left the frame to bear up under the force of gravity's tension.

Slouching, Cosma placed an elbow on the table and poked at her dreads. When she spoke, it was very softly. "Do you have chats with Dr. Leekie often?"

Delphine shook her head. "No. This is maybe . . . the third time?"

Cosima's eyebrows expressed surprise, but in which direction--that three was a high number or a low one--Delphine couldn't determine. Delphine waited. Thoughts shifted beneath the surface of Cosima's mien, fathomless, indecipherable. Acceding to Cosima's silence, Delphine picked up her fork, steered her plate closer, and speared a piece of lettuce.

The action goaded Cosima. Moving halfheartedly, she reached into her bag and extracted one of brown paper. She placed it carefully on the table and slid it toward Delphine.

"What's this?" Delphine asked.

"Truffles," Cosima said. "The other day you mentioned them and there's this local chocolatier--" She shook her head and flicked her hand through the air. "Anyway, you sounded like you were craving them, so." Cosima shrugged and gestured at the bag sitting self-evident.

Delphine gaped at her. "You bought me truffles?"

"Yeah." Cosima poked the bag. "Go ahead."

"No no no." Delphine shook her head. "If we're to do this properly, we need wine." She smiled at Cosima. "Come over tonight and we'll try them together."

Something stubborn, something slighted, something maybe even angry in Cosima that lurked in the clenched line of her jaw resisted the invitation. But then Cosima smiled, stiffly but gamely, if not energetic, at least seeming less tired. 

"Okay. Sounds like a plan."

*

"Just the woman I wanted to see."

On a trek back to her work station, Delphine lowered the report in which she had buried her nose and her awareness to confront Dr. Leekie, tall and smiling. Her surprise made her wonder if she would ever stop feeling surprise at his appearances.

"Dr. Leekie. Hello."

"You look fine today," he remarked affably.

"I am, thank you. Yourself?"

"Very well." He gave her a close-lipped smile. "I'm here to make good on my promise. I didn't forget that I've been meaning to have a serious discussion with you about your place with us here."

Delphine groped for words in the suddenness. Dr. Leekie spared her the embarrassing effort.

"Not here and now," he assured her. "Tomorrow, say three o'clock? In my office. We'll have a proper conversation, no interruptions."

Astonishment and nervousness clouded Delphine's cognitive functions. "Three o'clock? Tomorrow?"

Dr. Leekie nodded. "Three o'clock. Tomorrow."

Delphine nodded dazedly. "Yes. I'll be there."

"Excellent. I'll see you then," he said brightly, as if his words bore no significance or consequence. 

But they did.

Tomorrow.

Delphine slept poorly that night.


	4. Chapter 4

Delphine arrived early. Probably too early, considering she didn't have to navigate more geography than a few halls and the elevator. Certainly too early for the settlement of her nerves, which applied themselves industriously in the downtime to twisting Delphine's insides into knots and brewing noxious turbulence in her stomach. 

Dr. Leekie, according to his secretary Kelsey, wasn't even in his office. 

Reading was proving a poor means of speeding up time. 

"Why can't you just leave her alone?"

The voice, raised as if projected across a distance, yanked Delphine's head up from her notes at the same time Kelsey looked up. Seated facing one another, their eyes met in shared surprise before turning as one toward the doorless entryway leading to the hall, where from around the corner the voice had wafted.

An interval of silence passed, then they heard Dr. Leekie respond mildly, "To whom are you referring?" 

"Don't act like you don't know," his interlocutor snapped. "I saw you talking to her yesterday." A pause. " _Delphine?_ Dr. Cormier?" Delphine glanced at Kelsey, in whose eyes a degree of alarm surfaced. The secretary gripped the armrests of her chair, body tense, a picture of indecision, poised to either rise or resettle in her seat. A similar uncertainty held Delphine hostage. 

This wasn't a conversation for her ears.

She was its subject.

Delphine couldn't not listen. 

"She's a doctor and a fine scientist," Dr. Leekie answered.

A gasp, half laughter, half derision. "Yeah. But we both know--" A choked off laugh, angry. "Is it because she's close to me? Because I can tell you she doesn't _know_ anything, Dr. Leekie."

"Cosima," Dr. Leekie attempted to interject, tone placating. Delphine's breathing grew shallow. She'd known, by the voice, of course she had recognized those timbres, but to hear Cosima's name made her heart skip a beat. 

"That's not even it, is it? You had her brought over here, didn't you? Was this some kind of, of, of test? Or was she just a pretty face--"

Delphine inhaled sharply.

"That's enough," Dr. Leekie cut off Cosima sternly.

"No," Cosima growled. "I'm so _tired_ of this! Why is it always what _you_ want? It's always what's best for the project, never about--"

" _Cosima._ Compose yourself. We will not talk about this here. To my office. Now."

In the next moment two figures hurtled through the entranceway. Seated right beside it, Delphine caught a glimpse of Dr. Leekie's tall figure striding past brusquely, one hand gripping Cosima's elbow, not quite dragging, but neither quite guiding Cosima toward his office.

"Cancel all my appointments," Dr. Leekie barked at Kelsey as he crowded Cosima into the room and shut the door behind them. Neither had glanced around. Neither had noticed Delphine.

In stunned silence, Delphine turned to Kelsey and found the secretary gaping. They stared at each other, speechless. 

"I'm sorry," said Kelsey evenly into the vacuum in the wake of the tumult. "Dr. Leekie has cancelled all his appointments. We'll get back to you about rescheduling."

Delphine gazed at her uncomprehending, then back at the closed door. A wild impulse to march over and knock on the door careened through her muscles. 

"I wouldn't," Kelsey said kindly, puncturing Delphine's stupor. 

"What should I do?" Delphine asked helplessly, and then wished she hadn't. But the secretary smiled at her sympathetically.

"Go back to work," she suggested. "Follow up later. Or take a long break. They're not expecting you back soon."

Blinking, Delphine stood up slowly, clutching her portfolio. "Yes. Thank you. Could you--could you not tell Dr. Leekie that I was here waiting?"

Kelsey nodded. "I won't. Sorry for the inconvenience." The secretary offered her a sad, apologetic smile. "Have a good day, Dr. Cormier."

In a daze, Delphine returned the sentiment in a murmur, gathered her possessions, and shuffled out.

*

Delphine should have simply gone home. For the remainder of the day her brain refused to cooperate, unable to process arrangements of text and graphics into sense. Instead her thoughts replayed bits and snatches of what she'd overheard--Had she heard them correctly? Was she remembering clearly? Had they really said that?--as she stared immobile and unproductive at results, slides, emails, and forms.

_Just a pretty face._

No. No, surely, she must have heard incorrectly, interpreted the exchange wrong. 

The day floated around her like a dream, one in which the sight of Cosima stepping out of the elevator appeared like another fantastical element. A confused sluggish second paralyzed Delphine. Then she hurried to intercept Cosima's path. The hasty clack of her heels turned several heads, but not Cosima's, not even as Delphine neared, as she reached out, closing the gap, and seized the brunette's arm. Her fingers gripped hard, perhaps a bit roughly--as Dr. Leekie had?--and pulled Cosima up short. Cosima whirled around, brow contorted with indignation and mouth parted to protest or castigate--only to recognize her transgressor as Delphine. 

Cosima relaxed and brightened. 

"Delphine, hey--"

"I thought you were my friend," Delphine cut her off. Lowly. Harshly. Almost hissing. Like a kettle left to simmer announcing it had reached a boil; her voice shook with the restraint of hot, tremulous, startling rage. 

"Whoa, wait, what?" Cosima gasped, face paling with shock and confusion, eyes wild on Delphine's expression, assessing her demeanor. "What are you talking about? I am your friend."

"Then why were you talking to Dr. Leekie about me behind my back?" The widening of Cosima's eyes implicated her guilt. Delphine's heart constricted. "What did you say to him? Why would you do that?"

"Delphine," Cosima started, stopped. Her mouth worked but emitted no sound. 

Delphine searched Cosima's face intently, seeking some sign, looking for an explanation. "I was supposed to meet with him today."

"You were?" Surprise unstrung Cosima's tone and blanketed her gaping expression--and was swept away by relief. 

Delphine's ire flared.

"Yes," she said, squeezing the words through vocal cords stretched tight and jaw wired taut, "but our meeting was cancelled--because he was talking to you."

Cosima raised her hands between them--requiring Delphine to release her forgotten grip on Cosima's arm--palms out, placating. "Okay, okay, listen. I know it looks bad, but I was looking out for you."

Delphine gaped at her. "You're not going to deny it?"

Bewilderment pinched Cosima's face. "Do you want me to?"

Delphine's blood ran like ice in her veins. Eyes slipping shut, Delphine shook her head and chopped at the air. "No." She looked down at Cosima, frustrated, appealing. "What I want is to know why it looks like you're trying to sabotage my career."

"I'm not trying to sabotage your career," insisted Cosima. "I'm trying to protect you."

"From what?" Delphine exclaimed. "Dr. Leekie? What could he do--promote me? Where's the harm in that? Unless--" Delphine's eyes narrowed. "--you think he wouldn't promote me based just on merit? That a promotion would, what, involve a proposition?"

_Just a pretty face._

Cosima swayed back onto her heels, as if Delphine had dealt her a blow. After a second of shocked stillness, Cosima squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head violently, hands waving to dispel distastefulness. "Okay, no, let's not go there. Please." She pressed her fingertips briefly to her forehead and then held out both hands as if to clutch at something, or catch something, or capture something elusive, eyes opening and landing squarely, imploringly on Delphine. "No, I don't think that--" She stopped, took a breath, exhaled through her nose. "You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?" demanded Delphine. 

"I can't tell you--" Indignation flashed across Delphine's features as clearly as a stoplight signalling red, so Cosima charged ahead, faster, "--specifically--but if I'm right, what Dr. Leekie might offer you will do you more harm than good."

" _If you're right?_ " Delphine repeated, incredulous, a touch of hysterical laughter lending harmony. "You don't even know what he wants to discuss with me?"

"No," Cosima said slowly, tripping on the admission, "but I've got a pretty good guess."

Delphine buried her hands in her hair, threw her head back, and tried--and failed--to laugh. "So for a _hunch_ you are ruining my chances to be recognized by a prominent, respected scientist, who happens to be a director of the DYAD Institute?" She let her hands drop to her sides and glared down at Cosima. "Is that what you're saying?"

As the tirade tumbled out of Delphine, a remarkable stillness seized the muscles in Cosima's face. By the time Delphine punctuated her accusation with a slight gasp, Cosima's entire demeanor broadcast a careful blankness. Unreadable, Cosima gazed back at Delphine, mute. 

Delphine might have been alarmed, in other circumstances, to see the fire of animation die so abruptly in a woman always dynamic. Instead, she nodded slowly, as much to deny the wall Cosima presented to her as to tamp down twined threads of anger and betrayal. 

"Is this how you treat your friends?" asked Delphine, softly. Pain cracked Cosima's mask. Delphine backed away. "I see. Things are starting to make sense."

"Delphine," breathed Cosima, taking a step toward her, one hand reaching. 

Delphine's hand whipped up to forestall the brunette's approach. "No. You're not my friend."

Cosima drew a breath to answer. Delphine shook her head, spun on a heel, and stalked away, head bowed, pace brisk. No appeal or plea followed her. 

Delphine wouldn't have heard one over the howl of thoughts crescendoing in her head.

*

Delphine stewed. She stewed all along the drive home, barely cognizant of the glow of green lights versus yellow lights versus brake taillights warning her to stop, or of taking the turns right and left that had by now become routine, or of whatever pop song or overenthusiastic deejay blabber that buzzed through the speakers at decibels dialed viciously, impatiently to a roar, then a murmur. She stewed every stomping step from her car, to the elevator, to her front door, to her living room, where she tossed everything carelessly onto the couch, relying on the downiness of the cushions to shield fragile items from injury. She stewed through the two times she slammed the refrigerator door shut, the first time immediately upon opening it to hear the jars rattle in the shelves, the second time after a cursory glance over the contents revealed nothing that appealed to a stomach brimming with the acid of resentment. She stewed through cross-armed laps around her kitchen, when she sat down at the table, when she got up again, when she leaned against the sink counter, head bowed. She stewed through the sawing open of a can of soup, dumping the contents into a bowl, covering it with saran wrap, and microwaving it for the instructed minutes. She stewed through every salty bite, chewing each morsel with vindictive zeal but little consideration, and swallowing the sustenance untasted.

Delphine stewed right up to the moment she saw the plant--the zebra plant--in its place on the kitchen windowsill. It swallowed her vision, held her transfixed. Her breaths passed shallow and harshly through her nose. 

"Fuck you," she spat at the plant, in English, because that's what she would have said to Cosima to ensure the brunette understood. "Bitch. Liar. Traitor." It didn't feel satisfying, so she tried again, in French. " _Salope! Pute! Connasse!_ "

The plant made no reply.

Delphine buried her face in a hand.

Nothing answered her. Nothing made sense. Nothing, no matter the number of circuits her thoughts conducted round her head, could tell Delphine why. _Why had Cosima done what she did? Why had she said what she'd said?_

And nothing could quiet the voice that intoned, even as Delphine lay in bed, hands covering her eyes: 

_Have a care. Have a care. Have a care._

*

Two days passed before Delphine chanced sight of Cosima again. Their eyes met across the length of a hall. Cosima stopped and stood rooted, waiting.

Looking at Cosima, the sense of betrayal uncoiled within Delphine, lashing and whipping at aches and banked flames, cold and hot by turns.

Delphine turned away.

They went their separate ways.

That was that.

*

In the days following, Cosima disappeared. Or Delphine ignored where her presence might once have manifested or could have been, dwelling not on the chair Cosima might have occupied at the lunch table, or the vacuum of silence that was Cosima incommunicado among the messages and list of calls on her phone, or the lack of seeing her dreadlocked figure sauntering through the halls.

Delphine did not skim through the faces in a room, did not inquire after news of run-ins with or the whereabouts of the elusive "Protege," did not see how Adrian eyed the seat empty for days conspicuously running, did not note the twitch of his eyebrow when mention of Cosima (and if she could be reached) did not elicit a response from her, did not wonder how Cosima appeared effectively to vanish like a ghost, out of sight, out of mind. 

Delphine most definitely did not feel the shape that Cosima had worn and warped and bent into the pattern of her American life, lingering behind like an after image exposed long in imposition over the picture of the present so devoid of her.

*

Yet all a day's conscious effort could not stop the question from finding Delphine, usually in the late of night, in that interval waiting for sleep to come, needling: Why had Cosima done it?

More importantly, why couldn't Delphine just let it go?

*

The knock interrupted Delphine mid-email-composition. A check of the time displayed in the corner of the screen confirmed it was past decent visiting hours--announced or unannounced.

Delphine wasn't expecting any visitors.

Frowning, Delphine transferred the laptop from her lap to the coffee table and rose reluctantly to her feet. Knocks sounded again, inquiring soft taps beat timidly from sturdy wood. On quiet feet, as if the person on the other side of the door might hear her approaching otherwise, Delphine slipped up to the door and peeked through the peephole. 

In the hallway, shifting her weight from foot to foot, stood Cosima. Delphine withdrew and rested her forehead against the door.

She was surprised. Yet, also, not. Uncertain. Unsure. Unprepared.

Delphine took a deep breath, curled one hand around the doorknob and placed the other upon the bolt. With a twist she unlocked the door, wrangled the knob in the other direction, and pulled open the door in one continuous motion, stepping into the crack to fill the space with her body. 

Cosima's head jerked up. 

"Cosima." The name fell flatly from Delphine's lips. She braced one arm on the doorframe and kept the door tucked in close with a firm handle on the doorknob. "What are you doing here?"

"Delphine." Cosima's fingertips plucked at one another. "Hey."

Hesitation--and hope--carried the brunette's tone tight and bright. Delphine tilted her head in a reiteration of her original question. Cosima continued, prodded.

"I came to, um--" Cosima swallowed. Dropped her gaze. Raised it again. "Can we talk?"

Delphine inclined her head to indicate permission granted. The understanding that Delphine was not going to invite her in passed across Cosima's visage like a cloud casting a shadow dark and obscuring. Cosima looked down at her hands. The muscles in her jaw flexed. 

"I, uh--" Cosima's head twitched as her face spasmed in a grimace. "I'm gonna be out of town. For a bit. I leave tomorrow." She took a breath. Delphine waited. "I--I didn't want to leave without--" One hand windmilled at the wrist in circles, dredging up the words. "--talking to you."

Delphine peered down at her, narrow-eyed. "Have you come to apologize?"

Cosima lifted her line of sight to meet Delphine's. Steadily. Distraughtly. "I came here to warn you."

"What?" The word escaped Delphine in an exhalation that was part gasp, part laugh.

Cosima shook her head and cut at the air with a hand. "Dr. Leekie--he's gonna be back at the end of the week and I know this sounds crazy and--and stupid--and I can't tell you what to do-- _I know that_ \--but, Delphine, please, if he makes you an offer--just--please--please--take into consideration that I'm telling you that I think it's a really, really bad idea to accept anything he offers."

Desperation rushed the syllables out of Cosima in a jumble. Delphine silently absorbed them. Cosima watched her, intent, but also anxious.

"Why?" Delphine asked at last. "Why is it a bad idea? What kind of offer?"

Cosima deflated. "An offer. And it just--is. Trust me. Please. It'll change everything. It could change your life."

Delphine let the silence hang under the weight of Cosima's imploring eyes.

"That's it?" Delphine shook her head. Cosima's eyes fluttered. "You're not going to explain?"

"I can't," Cosima said, voice rough.

"Why not? Is it classified?"

Cosima didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Delphine paused. Her rejoinder had been flippant. Even so. "Who are you?" 

"What?" 

"I thought I knew you," Delphine said. "I thought I knew what type of person you were. I thought maybe there was some kind of--" She shrugged. "--misunderstanding. That people were afraid to be around you because--" Her mouth jerked in a smile of disbelief. "--you are close to Dr. Leekie. I started to think it was--silly. You know? You were nice. You seemed nice."

The corners of Cosima's eyes tautened. 

"But this . . . You went behind my back, Cosima. If you are telling me not to accept any offer from Dr. Leekie, you probably told him not to make me any offers. Right?"

Cosima's breaths had grown shallower, heavier. She kept silent.

"Who are you to make decisions like that for me?" demanded Delphine with a quiet that made Cosima flinch. "Then to come here to ask me to act in accordance with your will without providing any information that would let me make an informed decision--you just keep saying the same things you did last time. Why should I listen?" 

"Because I don't want to see you get hurt."

" _You_ hurt me," Delphine hurled at her. 

Cosima's lips parted.

"And I don't know why," finished Delphine in a near whisper. "I trusted you. I did."

Cosima bowed her head and stared at her restless hands.

The silence rolled out, unbroken.

With a certainty that stung, Delphine knew no explanation or apology was coming. 

"Have a good trip, Cosima," she murmured and stepped back to shut the door.

"Wait," Cosima interjected, laying a hand upon Delphine's arm. Delphine paused in her retreat, glancing at the hand where it rested upon her bicep, ringed, pale-fingered. She turned her head to look back at Cosima--and gasped, drawing back, even as Cosima leaned up into her, lips meeting Delphine's open mouth, a brush, a press, gentle and questing. Delphine stood frozen, unaware of her own reaction, if she were moving away from Cosima or against her, unable to process even the feel of Cosima's lips, their texture, their taste, before Cosima was gone, pulling away, scanning Delphine's face, and uttering a breathless "Goodbye."

In the fraction of a second that Delphine blinked, Cosima darted away. Delphine gripped at the doorframe and the door, as much to steady herself as keep herself upright, and leaned out into the hallway, shouting, "Wait!"

Cosima glanced back, once, face a wreck of bleak sorrow. Then she fled, leaving in her wake a weight of finality. Delphine gaped after her, too overwhelmed to give chase, too flabbergasted to comprehend what had just happened.

*

Delphine placed the call about an hour later. An hour after she had closed the door, locked it, sat down upon the couch, stood up, paced, and sat down again, propping an elbow upon the armrest and pressing a knuckle to her lips. (Her lips, which she rolled inward to wet, wondering a beat later if she tasted a hint of lip gloss not her own.) An hour should have been enough time for Cosima to make the journey home, maybe even pour a drink, a glass of wine, red, as was her wont, finish packing her bags. Time to accommodate a detour, even. 

The ring tone rolled out interminable--Cosima's phone was on--and shunted Delphine to voice mail. When the automated message began to play, Delphine disconnected.

Relief splayed Delphine slouched upon the couch like a ragdoll. 

Now that she had failed to reach Cosima, Delphine wondered why she had attempted to call. What was there to say? 

"Why did you kiss me?"

"What did it mean?"

And if she had received an answer, what would it have changed?

*

But that kiss, it did change things, if only Delphine's outlook in reflection, like a lens through which she gained clarity of focus, a whole framework in which to position and review a host of Cosima's little behaviors. It made sense, didn't it, some of it, falling into line with suspicions that had been forming whispery, like that perhaps the bubble surrounding Cosima wasn't one delineated by the people around her, but a radius cast by Cosima herself--and maybe Delphine had been granted admittance, invited in.

Pieces began to make sense. While others began to make less.

Because if that were the case, Delphine puzzled in the validity of that hypothesis, then why had Cosima taken actions she surely would have known would hurt Delphine in the event she discovered them--which Delphine had. Why had she gone on to insist upon them? Over Delphine's protest? Over her incredulity? Why did it _matter_ so much--that Delphine listen?

Why did it matter so much--that Delphine cared to this degree?

Delphine moistened her lips. They felt slightly dry.

*

By week's end, Delphine had neither seen nor heard from Dr. Leekie.

An offer didn't come.

A part of Delphine clenched.

A part of Delphine relaxed.

*

As Saturday entered noon, hounded by the circuitous reiterations of her thoughts--if . . . but . . . then . . . why . . .--Delphine snatched up her phone with an _ugh_ of disgust and tapped out a succinct message-- _We need to talk._ \--and hit send.

She put the phone aside and waited.

She vacuumed and tidied and cleaned and listened.

She rearranged the books on their shelves by subject and author and every few volumes consulted the screen of her mobile. 

She spread butter on slices of a baguette, chewed, and scrolled through her messages.

Occasionally a chime interrupted mid-task, summoning Delphine promptly to her phone. Missives came, were replied to, or ignored. Not a word was sent from Cosima.

*

Sunday morning: _Did you receive my message?_

Sunday evening: _Are you ignoring me?_

Monday: _Cosima, answer me please._

Tuesday: _Where are you? When are you returning? Are you okay?_

*

Delphine sipped at her cup of tea and glanced anxiously at the time. It was getting on late afternoon and she still hadn't received notification that her lab results were in--and since she needed them to finish her report, she suspected she'd be heading home late this Wednesday. (Or, as David always called it, "hump day," which had been amusing the first few times but now, innumerable iterations and immutable innuendo later and Delphine irritable as it was, earned him a blank stare from Delphine's workstation.)

Her phone chirped. Delphine nearly sighed in relief. 

She unlocked her phone, eyes first skimming, unregistering, and then stared. The message wasn't from the lab. 

Cosima: **I'm back.**

Delphine gazed at the words uncomprehending. The screen dimmed. Darkened. Delphine lifted her head, looked around, and swept the fingers of her free hand across her lips.

She didn't think.

She had thought all week.

Delphine replied: _I want to see you._

A minute ferried an answer: **Tonight?**

Delphine didn't think. 

_Yes. Tonight. Come over._

*

The knock fell upon the door a scarce thirty minutes after Delphine arrived home. (The lab results had arrived nearly forty-five minutes on the tail of Cosima's reappearance. Later than Delphine originally had expected, but the three-quarters of an hour had passed ephemeral, so that the notification had jolted her like a reminder, not an update, and spurred her into a flurry of activity. She'd completed the report in a sort of daze and now, gripped by a momentary panic, Delphine couldn't quite recall what'd she written or if she'd be able to recount pertinent points when Dr. Delaney asked about it in the morning. Best not to dwell on it.) On her way to the door Delphine eyed the state of her living space--for no real reason, but assessing it nonetheless, judging it tidy but for her bags slung onto the couch, which probably would have been better deposited in the office. Too late now.

A peek through the peephole confirmed Cosima stood on the other side of the door. With a deep breath, Delphine drew herself up to her full height, smoothed down her shirt, and opened the door.

Cosima, who had been engrossed in a study of her rings, fixed promptly on Delphine's form with the slightest lift of her head. She spoke first. "Hey."

"Hey," echoed Delphine softly, posture relaxing.

Cosima studied her expression. What she saw there Delphine couldn't have said, but Cosima spread her hands, palms up. "I didn't bring any souvenirs."

"That's okay." A corner of Delphine's mouth dimpled, tight. "At least you brought yourself, alive." Cosima's eyes cut to the side, an acknowledgement. Delphine stepped back. "Come in."

Cosima lingered in the hall an extended beat before shuffling over the threshold--and pausing, hesitant, just inside the door. With confusion Delphine observed Cosima's wavering body language. Then it occurred to her: Cosima was debating taking off her shoes. She usually did. Not that it mattered to Delphine, nor ever had. 

But Delphine understood why today it might.

Delphine closed and locked the door. She offered no opinion to tip the scales. Wordless she drifted into the living room area, glancing back at Cosima, who followed after trailing, feet still shod in shoes. 

Delphine didn't sit. Neither did Cosima. They stood positioned apart about the length of the coffee table. 

"Would you like something to drink?" asked Delphine.

Cosima shook her head. "No thanks."

Delphine swiped her palms across her thighs. "How was your trip?"

Cosima shrugged. She focused on a point over Delphine's shoulder, somewhere along the bookshelf. "How was your week?"

Delphine let the question sink and settle, gauging what its descent dredged up and disturbed. But it was almost as if a week's worth of ruminations had accumulated a collective weight now too heavy to shift.

"Uneventful," she said. It was true.

Cosima's attention snapped onto Delphine lightning quick. "Dr. Leekie--"

"No," Delphine said. It rang out, to her own ears, as unexpectedly assuring. "Not a word."

Quiet enveloped Cosima. Withdrawn. Thoughtful.

"Relieved?" prodded Delphine.

Cosima crossed her arms and breathed out heavily through her nose. "Is that why you wanted to see me? To ream me out?"

Delphine mulled on the suggestion. At last she said, "No."

"Then why did you want to see me?" Cosima asked, standing a bit straighter, gaze square.

"Why did you come?" Delphine asked quietly.

Cosima inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and shifted her weight. She didn't answer. Not with words. Her stance went oblique. Her features set into a mulish cast. Defensive, accusatory. Vulnerable, transparent. 

Delphine traversed the space separating them, strides measured and considered, projecting movements that Cosima could track. But it was her eyes on which the brunette fastened, head tipping back the closer Delphine neared, the aura behind her lenses wary, coiled, unfaltering. 

Delphine halted toe-to-toe with Cosima. Cosima stared up at her. Delphine let her look. She looked right back.

With the same calculated slowness, Delphine reached up and laid her hand gently upon Cosima's cheek. Cosima's eyelids fluttered. Delphine's gut clenched.

This was why she'd asked to see Cosima, Delphine knew in the moment her stomach roiled. To witness the swell of emotion--wariness, fear, hope, _longing_ \--surge in Cosima's eyes. To see Cosima's breath quicken. To feel Cosima tremble beneath her touch. 

Delphine traced the bow of Cosima's lips with the pad of her thumb. "You kissed me." In Cosima's gaze, scanning restlessly between Delphine's eyes, reflected silent confirmation of the memory. 

Cosima had kissed her and Delphine hadn't expected it and she'd spent all week thinking about it, the whys and the wherefores and the hidden places within Cosima from which the impulse might have sprung. She'd thought, compulsively, of Cosima, deflecting what scratched from underneath on the other side, unable to put herself--

Here.

Delphine leaned down and pressed her lips to Cosima's.

Cosima stiffened, inhaling sharply, back extending, arching, putting her at distance, but not enough to break the contact between them, not enough to pull away. With her thumb Delphine stroked Cosima's cheek, felt Cosima's mouth part beneath hers as if tripped by a switch, but sensed not one muscle move against her in response. 

Delphine withdrew, just enough to look into Cosima's eyes, to whisper, "Kiss me."

"What are you doing?" Cosima asked, at decibels minisculely greater in volume.

"Isn't this what you want?" Delphine parried, unflinching.

"Yeah, but--" The pupils of Cosima's eyes dilated, constricted in speculation. "Is this what you want?"

Delphine confronted her consternation half-lidded. "I want you to kiss me."

Cosima inspected Delphine's gaze, wild, like an animal trapped seeking an escape and leery of attack. Then she reached up in a smooth motion and slipped the strap of her purse off her shoulder, let it slide down her arm, and sent the handbag plummeting to the ground. It bounced, tinkling with a clutter of items that tickled Delphine's ears as Cosima's hands brushed over her cheeks and cupped her face. The brunette surged into her as much as she drew Delphine down. Her mouth, so still before, captured Delphine's with a hunger that buzzed through Delphine's lips down her spine in a rush that seized her breath, even as her brain worked to catalogue what before she had missed, the softness of Cosima against her skin, the moistness of her lips, the hint of strawberry in her lip gloss, the curve of her spine as Delphine's hand roamed the small of her back, wrapping an arm around the slight waist to pull Cosima closer.

Cosima resisted. At first. But she succumbed in increments, with every passing second, as if shedding chains of restraint, allowing now Delphine's tongue to dart past her lips, for Delphine to embrace her, to fit them pelvis to pelvis, to drag her fingers along Delphine's neck, to lean into Delphine's fingertips slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, up---

Cosima pushed against Delphine's shoulder, separating them, though Delphine yearned toward her, a magnet seeking its pole, gasping for air, her hand still underneath Cosima's blouse.

"Whoa, wait, wait, hold up," Cosima panted between breaths, holding the restraining hand up in the space between their bodies. 

"What?"

"Maybe this isn't a good idea."

The heat of Cosima's kisses still throbbed upon Delphine's lips. "Seriously?" 

"Yeah." Cosima nodded, eyes intent on Delphine's. "I mean, this could--this could change your life."

Delphine laughed, incredulous, amazed, with the heat of Cosima's skin transmitting through her fingertips. "Like how you said Dr. Leekie could change my life? Am I to say no to you like you told me to say no to him?"

Faced with mirth and frivolity, Cosima answered with gravity and a tinge of sorrow that eroded Delphine's smile. "Yeah, like that."

Delphine listened to the thudding of her heart. Without breaking eye contact, Delphine found Cosima's hand and guided it, flat-palmed against her stomach and trapped beneath her own hand, to bump against the hem of her pants. "And if I don't want to say no?"

Cosima's breaths tore from her in ragged spurts. "Is that what you want?"

Delphine ceased pressing upon Cosima's hand. Cosima's hand didn't move. Delphine traced across the back of it, following by touch the lines of its delicate bones, finding Cosima's wrist and wrapping it in a loose grip. She stroked the inside of Cosima's forearm. "What do you want?"

Cosima's eyelids fluttered. "I don't want to say no."

Delphine reached up and cradled Cosima's cheek. "Then don't."

When Delphine kissed her again, Cosima offered no resistance. When Cosima's hands moved upon her, neither did Delphine.

*

Delphine surrendered.

She led Cosima, touching, caressing, exploring, venturing beneath and over and through layers of clothing, to the bedroom, reaching behind her to wrench at the doorknob, nearly falling through the door as it gave way. Cosima murmured, between kisses, a nip, "Turn on the lights, turn on the lights," until Delphine fumbled at the wall and caught the switch as they stumbled past, flooding the darkness with illumination.

Delphine surrendered to Cosima's plucking fingers snatching at hems, buttons, zippers, buckles, and clasps, barely deterred by the need to shed shoes or rings or step out of her skirt, herding Delphine always back, towards the bed, which Delphine had made carelessly that morning, lines imperfect but the comforter at least tugged flat. 

Delphine surrendered--but for the moment Cosima's fingers dipped beneath the top of her pants, belt discarded and no longer a constriction to questing beyond it, and probed the band of her panties--and sent a bolt of realization shooting down Delphine's arm. She seized Cosima's wrist, fingers tightening in a vise, effectively halting Cosima's advance. The brunette pulled back and looked into Delphine's face, whispering, "No? Something wrong? Should I stop?"

Already flushed but feeling her cheeks grow hotter, Delphine stammered, "I didn't--"

Cosima studied her face intently, worry etched into her features.

Delphine shook her head. "I didn't expect . . . I didn't have time . . ." 

Understanding lit Cosima's eyes. The alarm dissipated, replaced by a smile. Knowing. Tickled. Maybe a little delighted. "No worries," Cosima said softly, pushing farther, past Delphine's guard, slipping out of Delphine's loosening grasp, pressing her mouth to the corner of Delphine's lips, then the pulse pounding in Delphine's neck. "No problem."

Unobstructed, Cosima's hand descended slow--confident--assured--assuring--seeking-- _sliding_ \--

Delphine's mouth parted in a soundless gasp. With her own mouth Cosima bottled the strangled utterance within Delphine, lips easing Delphine into relaxing as her hand withdrew from Delphine's pants and set about freeing Delphine of them and remainder articles of clothing, stripping Delphine bare in a patient study. 

Delphine surrendered. To Cosima's intent and desires. To her languid exploration and the pressure of her touch--her fingers, her palms, her lips, her teeth, her tongue, the tracing point of her nose--by turns sure and cautiously inquiring. To the insinuation of Cosima's thigh between her legs, then her hand, then her--Delphine sucked in air through clenched teeth--tongue. To the sensations assaulting her drowned consciousness from every nerve aching sensitive. To the buck and jerk of her body urging Cosima faster, harder, longer, wanting her heat and hungry attention on her neck, her mouth, her breasts, her belly, along her back, her spine, her ass, her thighs, her clit, everywhere, sliding upon her, dipping inside her.

Everywhere.

*

Languor suffused Delphine's muscles with lazy lassitude. She lay upon her back, unwound, heartbeat and breaths slowing in accord, as Cosima stretched out beside her, reclining lengthwise upon her side and propping up her head with one hand, the other tucked beneath the sheets and resting upon Delphine's stomach. In the lull of inactivity, the sweat cooled upon Delphine's skin. She tugged the sheets up to cover herself and fend off a chill, but not without noticing the way Cosima tracked the sheet's progress, eyes nearly wistful when Delphine's breasts disappeared from sight.

Delphine almost laughed. Not that Cosima should complain, though the sheets only draped over her legs. She wasn't similarly exposed, still in her bra and underwear. Delphine considered the brunette, lying there at her leisure, easy in repose. The French woman lifted her arm--or rather, more accurately, pivoted it at the elbow from where it lay upon the bed--and drew the back of her hand down the cascade of Cosima's ribs, into the dip of her waist and up along the swell of her hip, a question in the brush of her knuckles and the quirk in her brow. However, given how tired she was, the gesture was, perhaps, feeble at best. Cosima smiled at her, eyes soft.

"It's okay," Cosima said. "You don't have to."

Delphine, pouting a bit, hooked a finger through the lacy band of Cosima's panties and tugged. "It seems unfair."

"Not to me." Tenderness underpinned Cosima's regard. Delphine glanced away. Cosima drew a circle around Delphine's navel. "But if you feel bad--let me--"

Delphine raised an eyebrow, but Cosima was already shifting, scooting down a bit and sidling closer, fitting against Delphine. Comprehending, Delphine raised her arm and wrapped it around Cosima's shoulders, tucking her in tight as the brunette settled her head upon her shoulder. It felt strange, to be so utterly wearied and stripped, whereas Cosima was not, gaze alert, the lace of her underwear textured against Delphine's bare skin. She was small, too, a smaller figure than Delphine had ever before held like this, curved in places unfamiliar. And soft. Delphine stroked Cosima's back, her waist, her arm. So soft. 

Sleep tempted Delphine in that warm, cozy cocoon, along with the lulling sensation of Cosima's fingers intertwining with her fingers, the play of Cosima's thumb across the creases in her palm. But she gazed up at the ceiling and said, "I have questions, you know."

Cosima shifted, craning her head back, and looked into her face so that Delphine, twisting to peer down at her, could make out her sly grin. "You can ask."

Her enthusiasm puzzled Delphine for a second. Then realization dawned. "I don't mean about sex."

Cosima's expression fell. "Oh."

Delphine's eyebrows arched. "You thought I had questions about sex?"

"Well," Cosima drawled, the hand grasping Delphine's pinwheeling so that their hands turned together, "can you blame me?" She retreated to orchestrating the choreography of their hands, interlocked and moving like gears as she turned them. "We just had sex and I figure I'm the first woman you've slept with . . ."

"You sound so sure."

Cosima leaned back to better look at Delphine. Uncertainty bled into the fringes of her scrutiny. "I thought--I mean--I didn't know, of course, but--I've been pegging you for straight all this time. It's why I never--made a move. I was scared I'd freak you out." Cosima let out a gasp of laughter, speech speeding up. "I didn't want to risk losing you as a friend if you weren't cool with the idea of another woman crushing on you. But, you know, if I've been wrong--"

"Did it show?" Delphine asked, warming to Cosima's flustered attempt to backtrack, letting it mask the frisson of self-consciousness that Cosima's assumption stirred. "Did tonight disappoint you?"

"No!" Cosima barked. " _No_ , of course not. Delphine, I--I never thought I would be--" Cosima shook her head, groping for words. "--here--with you--like this. When I said goodbye--" She faltered.

Delphine scanned Cosima's expression. After a moment, she disentangled her fingers from Cosima's, carefully eased herself out from under the brunette, and propped herself against the pillows in a semi-sitting position, dragging the sheets along to cover herself. Cosima followed her lead, reluctantly, removing her hand and electing to buttress herself more upright on an arm than outright sitting up. When they'd settled, Delphine gazed into Cosima's eyes. 

"Did you mean it?" she asked. 

Cosima exhaled heavily. "Yes."

Delphine released a short, held breath through her nose. She'd sensed the finality in Cosima's words that night a week ago. She heard it now in the weariness of Cosima's admission. "Why didn't you answer my messages?"

"I--" Cosima lowered her head, dreads swaying as she shook it. "Things were messed up between us. I'd screwed things up. The last time I saw you, you were pissed off--and I didn't know if you wanted to--" She shrugged. "--to yell at me some more or to ask me things that--that I can't answer." Her fingers moved restlessly on the bedspread. "I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to . . . get my hopes up." More quietly, she added, "And I didn't want to lose all hope." Cosima peeked at her. "You know?"

They studied each other wordlessly for a time. 

"Tell me what you're afraid of," Delphine implored her softly. 

"What do you mean?" Cosima whispered back. Uncertainty and nervousness crowded in her eyes, accumulated crouched in the tension around her mouth. 

"What were you so angry about with Dr. Leekie? What's so terrible about what he might offer me?"

Cosima shook her head. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"For legal reasons," deflected Cosima. Frustration rose up in Delphine. 

"That's not a convincing argument," she asserted, exasperated. "You know, you're only making me more curious. If I receive an offer, I might accept just to learn what has you so worried."

Cosima winced. "Please don't do that."

"What if I receive an offer that has nothing to do with what you're worried about? I can't tell without knowing. How can I protect myself from the unknown?"

"You can quit," Cosima said. Delphine laughed, but Cosima, stone-faced, continued, "Get another job. Work somewhere else."

Delphine sobered, staring. "You're serious."

Cosima gazed back, bullish. 

Delphine gasped, choking off an incredulous laugh. "What? You want me to leave?" Delphine shook her head, as if the motion might jar loose rational logic. "Would you follow me?"

Cosima glanced away. The corners of her mouth dipped. When she looked back at Delphine, eddies of sorrow swirled in her eyes. "I can't."

Resignation leadened the words, which emerged from Cosima's lips with the tortured quality of a confession of mortal sin. 

Delphine lay steadying her breaths, watching Cosima watch her. "I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?" Underneath the question threaded a tremble. 

Delphine laid her fingers on Cosima's forearm, slid her hand along the tendons, and folded Cosima's hand within her own, focusing on the warmth captured between their palms. "You say first that you want--this." She raised their joined hands. "To be with me." She peered into Cosima's eyes. "Now you say you want to push me out the door and send me away." She caressed the edge of Cosima's hand. "What do you want?"

A smile made a feeble attempt at Cosima's lips. Failed. "You."

Delphine squeezed her hand. "You have me."

Cosima ducked her head and skimmed the fingertips of her free hand along Delphine's arm. "I want you to be with me. And I want you to be safe. But being with me isn't safe for you."

"Isn't that my choice?" challenged Delphine. "How can I determine what is in my best interests if I don't know the parameters or the dangers?"

"Delphine," chided Cosima with a little laugh, tapping Delphine's arm but not looking up, "you can ask me a hundred different ways, but I can't tell you the details."

"Can't or won't?" Delphine asked quietly. 

Cosima glanced up, mouth bowed with a self-deprecating smile. "Has anyone ever told you your English is excellent?"

After a moment's consideration, Delphine smiled back wanly. "You, actually."

They gazed at each other, the mood lightened with the exchange, but aware they were at an impasse. 

"I heard a story," Delphine dared, embarking on a detour. 

Cosima met the non sequitur with a tilt of her head. "What story?"

"About you."

"Yeah? What about me?"

"That you dated someone. A coworker at DYAD. Several years ago."

Cosima nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah."

"That you broke up."

"Obvs."

Delphine smirked at Cosima's matter-of-fact frankness. The humor faded from her lips as she framed the next part of the narrative. "That afterwards . . . matters became tense between the both of you. That he transferred." Cosima didn't blink. "Or was transferred."

Inscrutable shrouded Cosima like a mask. She said, simply, "Yeah."

"Yes, he transferred? Or, yes, he was transferred?"

Cosima's head swayed first in one direction, then the other. "A little bit of both."

Delphine's brows furrowed. "Is that what you're afraid of? That if we . . . get together and it doesn't work out between us, that that will happen again?"

Cosima looked at Delphine, the depths of her gaze shifting, somewhat apprehensive. Sad. Regretful. Guarded. "I'm worried that something similar might happen, that you'll become what he did, yeah."

"What did he become?"

Cosima looked away, searching the headboard for an answer. "Too close to Dr. Leekie."

"What?" Delphine exclaimed before she could stop herself. "That doesn't--"

Cosima turned back to her with an eyebrow lofted in askance. 

Delphine's mouth pinched. "The way I heard it told," she said slowly, "people think he was transferred because of you--by Dr. Leekie."

Cosima nodded, in a cavalier carefree way, chin dimpling in consideration. "Yeah, that's close to the truth."

"I don't understand," Delphine repeated for what felt like the hundredth time in their recent exchanges. "You said he was too close to Dr. Leekie, but then you say that Dr. Leekie transferred him for your sake. If Dr. Leekie was favoring him and not punishing him--" Delphine shook her head. "Was the transfer a reward? Was he promoted?"

"You know, actually, now that I think about it, he was given a promotion," confirmed Cosima, almost goodnaturedly. If there was a note of disbelief or resentment, it was faint enough that Delphine could not have been sure she hadn't projected it. 

"You're not going to explain it, are you?" sighed Delphine. 

The blasé indifference evaporated from Cosima's bearing. "Can you live with that?"

"As your friend, it didn't bother me. It had nothing to do with me. But as your girlfriend--"

The word hung in the air, taking them both off guard.

"He betrayed my trust," Cosima said at last. "That's the simplest way I can put it."

"And here you are asking me to trust you, but giving me so many reasons not to," Delphine pointed out.

Silence descended. 

Cosima broke it, quietly. "Should I go?"

Delphine closed her eyes, swept her free hand across her brow, and rubbed at her temple. "Are you going into work tomorrow?"

"No. I took the whole week off."

Delphine opened her eyes, tossed her hair back, and managed a smile. She tugged at Cosima's hand, beckoning her closer, back to the spot beside her that Cosima had occupied before the bend in their conversation. "Then stay."


	5. Chapter 5

Cosima woke slowly, in groaning increments, burying first one side of her face and then the other into the pillow. Perched on the edge of the bed beside the tossing and turning American, Delphine watched her, bemusement pinching her lips into a faint smile. Within a minute Cosima gave ground to consciousness and succumbed to the summons of the waking world. She lifted her head blearily. 

"Good morning," Delphine uttered softly.

Cosima moaned in lieu of intelligible words, then hurtled into wakefulness, raising her head and turning to Delphine with puzzlement. For a time she simply stared--squinted--at Delphine. Delphine could almost see the sequence of thoughts falling, like dominoes, one upon the next through Cosima's mind: _That wasn't a dream. That's Delphine. This is Delphine's bed._

Delphine smiled and brushed back the abundant fall of dreadlocks from Cosima's face. "Hungry? I bought breakfast."

Cosima blinked, looked toward the nightstand nearest to them, then twisted to investigate the one on the far side of the bed. "What time is it?"

"Nearly ten."

Cosima's head snapped around, eyes wide. "Ten? Shit, you're late!"

Delphine shook her head. "I'm not. I called in sick."

The declaration sank viscously through Cosima's haze. When she'd absorbed the significance, a grin gradually split her face. The muscles in Delphine's face twitched, as if to mirror Cosima's response. 

"You're playing hooky?" rasped Cosima.

"Yes." Upon waking, Delphine hadn't planned to take the day off, but somewhere around ten minutes into her drive, picturing Cosima as she had last glimpsed the brunette curled beneath the sheets (and ruminating on the succinct, almost impersonal note she had scrawled to the woman who hadn't stirred when Delphine had shimmied out of bed, nor when she'd showered and dressed, that relayed: "Went to work. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. The door will lock behind you. I'll call you later. -Delphine"), Delphine had turned at the traffic light that would take her to the little bakery she patronized and, while contemplating the selection of pastries behind the glass, had called in sick. Looking now at the person who had spurred her to spontaneity, Delphine hesitated, then leaned down and gently pressed her lips to Cosima's. Cosima welcomed her with care, almost chastely (compared to the fresh memory of that mouth's eagerness), and let Delphine pull away unpursued after only brief contact, eyes lingering on Delphine's lips, on her face. Under the spotlight of scrutiny, weighing its naked assessment and her own awareness of it, Delphine added, "With you, if you want."

Cosima's eyes sparkled. "Totally."

*

It was a day for little nothings. To pass the morning lazily shredding croissants and licking crumbs and buttery residue from slickened finger pads, to sip at orange juice and French press coffee, to insist on doing the dishes and shooing sleepyheads away. It was the sound of the shower running for the first time in that apartment for someone other than its tenant. It was a quick nip down to the nearest convenience store for a toothbrush because, as Cosima said, smelling of Delphine's soap and running her tongue over her teeth behind clamped lips, "gross."

(Also "gross": "Sorry, I know it's gross, but I have to wear the same outfit I did yesterday." 

"No . . . worries? Only I will know that it's the same outfit." 

"Yeah, but you're the last person I'd want to know." 

Delphine raised an eyebrow. "But I also know the reason why." 

"True." A grin emerged, albeit short-lived. "But, still--gross.")

It was a day to aspire to see a movie and debate a film worth seeing--with each argued point for or against any title received with a new dimension of consideration, like landmarks on a treasure map pointing to other indicators, to troves farther removed hiding precious gems--only to wind up under the sun, at the park, one party incredulous at the lack of a ready blanket--"Do you keep a blanket in your car?" "Yeah? Search hard enough and you'll find one."--and the other conceding to the conclusion that such an oversight would have to be remedied "posthaste"--"Posthaste? Is that a word?" "Yeah, it means, like, yesterday." "'Posthaste' means 'yesterday'?" "No no, it means--as fast as possible." "Then why did you say it meant 'yesterday'?" "I didn't say it meant 'yesterday.' I meant like so fast that it should have been done yesterday." "Ah . . . You could have just explained it like that, you know."--for future outings.

It was a day for sticking to paths and kicking at pebbles and matching up strides and lamenting, one hand raised as a visor, the clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight from which to sculpt fanciful impressions (or ameliorate the heat of the sun). 

It was a day, apparently, to shut off an incessantly chiming, vibrating phone in irritation.

"Is that wise?" queried Delphine with a sidelong glance as Cosima dropped the depowered device into the bowels of her purse. 

Cosima shrugged. "Wise or not, it's done."

Her words jolted Delphine. Her feet slowed and ceded ground, leaving Cosima to drift ahead, unaware. 

Wise or not. What had been done was done. And here she was, skipping a day of work, with a coworker with whom she had spent the night, who . . . had come at her beck, who had stayed at her invitation, who had just shut off her phone to silence its interruptions and now ambled--aimless in direction, in expression impassive, unperturbed, inscrutable--at Delphine's side.

Wise or not.

But if Cosima walked there beside her, she was yet far away. She was quiet. Her eyes roamed unseeing across the grassy terrain and frolicking fauna--a bunny startled into the brush, a squirrel crouched in a still life of self-preservation, sparrows taking wing at their approach, a dog chasing a tennis ball--and strolling, languishing, exercising, napping, chatting homo sapiens. All were alike in their inconsequence. 

If Delphine called her name, Cosima would answer. If Delphine made a joke, Cosima would laugh. If Delphine asked for her thoughts, Cosima would articulate some, if not perhaps the ones she had actually been contemplating.

This was Cosima. As Delphine had come to know her in the past weeks and months. As the person Delphine had understood the brunette to be up until the day before yesterday.

And now?

Lagged by her thoughts, Delphine was several paces behind Cosima when the brunette became aware of her absence and halted abruptly. She turned in search of Delphine, face an open question when she spied Delphine strolling up to her side unhurried, features arranged in an approximation of a shrug. Doubt cut through the unasked question in Cosima's eyes. But Delphine merely slipped her hand into Cosima's and drew her companion back into step. Cosima obeyed, almost unthinkingly, fingers wrapping warm around Delphine's without hesitation. The reality of their tableau ambushed her a tick later. Delphine saw the realization taking hold, metamorphosing from an insinuation trapped inchoate between their entangled hands into a certainty with the substance of actuality that escaped, against Cosima's efforts to repress it, in a smile.

A small smile. A smile to be hidden cast to the side. A smile that radiated through her eyes. A smile that spasmed with what appeared as laughter but Delphine suspected was disbelief. 

In that smile lurked the Cosima who hadn't existed in any of their yesterdays.

It was that Cosima whom Delphine stopped and kissed. 

The overture took Cosima by surprise; she flinched back. But the fingers of Delphine's free hand found Cosima's cheek, caressing, tender, soothing, and the brunette eased, relenting into her. When Delphine pulled away, Cosima breathed out: "Huh."

"What?" Delphine demanded, tracing Cosima's chin.

Cosima looked at her shrewdly. " _Am_ I the first woman you've been with?"

Delphine laughed. Then she kissed Cosima again.

*

The spongy grass availed as blanket enough to rest their feet, regardless of--Cosima had frowned--the perilous possibility of grass stains. Yet even concerns for the welfare of their fabrics faded under the welcome shade of a broad-leafed tree. They took up recumbent repose side-by-side, not touching, but nearly meeting where their hands came occasionally to lie upon the lawn.

It was a considered distance. A month ago Delphine wouldn't have noticed. Today it bore the breadth of the Atlantic and a presence as obtrusive. 

Delphine sucked in a lungful of fresh air. It was a beautiful day. 

She held that thought in her mind. 

"Can I ask a question?" 

Cosima looked up from her inspection of an uprooted blade of grass she'd been turning between her fingers. "Shoot."

"You said that your ex--he became too close to Dr. Leekie."

Cosima nodded.

"What does that mean?"

A strange little smile twisted Cosima's lips, deprecating, as her eyes cut away to the side. She didn't answer. Delphine leaned toward her, head craning to get a read on Cosima's expression.

"Do you mean that he came between you and Dr. Leekie?" Delphine clarified. "That, maybe, Dr. Leekie gave him more attention than he gave to you?"

Cosima's smile widened, blossoming into amused. She dropped her head, directing her amusement at the ground. "Are you asking me if I broke up with my ex because I was jealous of him? If I thought he was--" Cosima shook her head, groping bemusedly for a word, "--usurping my place as Dr. Leekie's favorite?"

The bald rewording didn't deter Delphine. "Something like that. Yes."

Cosima plucked at blades of grass and chuckled as she sprinkled them about. "Can I ask you a question?"

Delphine fended off a flutter of apprehension. "Yes?"

Cosima looked at her, mirthless smile still faintly in place. "Do you think that's what happened?"

Delphine met Cosima's eyes evenly and said, with quiet sincerity, "I can't make sense of it."

Her appeal erased the forced remnants of that crooked smile. Cosima nodded, tearing out a pinch of innocent foliage, and looked out at the sunny lawn beyond the shade of the tree. "And that's what makes the most sense?" Her tone was as light and airy as the tumbling and turning of the shreds of grass that she tossed away carelessly. "I can see how that would make you nervous. Make you reevaluate your choices. Make you wonder if getting together with 'the Protege' would lead toward career advancement or career suicide." She nodded again, jaw flexing. "But I'll tell you the secret--" Cosima's face hardened, eyes glinting behind lenses. "--there's a fifty-fifty probability it'll be one _or_ the other or one _and_ the other. Wanna stick around to find out which?" 

Delphine's pulse leapt at the sharpness in Cosima's tone and through squinching eyes she studied Cosima. Keeping her voice even, she asked, "Are you being cruel to protect me or yourself?"

Surprise splintered Cosima's obstinant belligerence. She turned away. 

Delphine wet her lips. When her blood cooled, she reached out and hesitantly slipped her fingers along Cosima's wrist. When Cosima didn't pull away, she wrapped her hand around Cosima's.

"Can you understand," she posed carefully, "that it's hard when you won't tell me anything?"

Cosima breathed out, eyelids drooping closed. "I know." Coming back, she looked down at Delphine's hand in hers and squeezed Delphine's fingers. "I know."

"Is it always like this?" asked Delphine softly. Cosima glanced over quizzically. Delphine gestured with her free hand. "When you date someone. Is it always secrets you can acknowledge but not share? Where everyone--" Delphine shook her head. "--understands that's simply the way things are?" 

Cosima was quiet for a time, her thumb working over Delphine's knuckles. She concentrated on her thumb descending into the valleys and cresting the peaks of Delphine's fine bones. "No. It wasn't always like this. And since it has been--" Cosima shrugged. "You could say no one's gotten close enough to have a test run."

Delphine mulled on the implications. "So this is new for you, too."

One corner of Cosima's mouth curled up. "If you put it like that, yeah, I guess." She snuck a peek at Delphine and added, softer, "Is that another discouraging point on the list of cons?"

Delphine affected an exaggerated frown. "Well," she said grandly, "which sounds more discouraging: dating another woman who's never dated a woman before, or dating someone with secrets they refuse to share?"

Cosima's eyebrows arched with playful skepticism. "They both sound pretty risky to me."

Delphine nodded sagely. "Then the next question follows: Are they worth the risk?"

Cosima gazed at her, openly, longingly, snagging a beat of Delphine's heart. "At least one of them is."

*

Cosima exited the car, shut the passenger door, and loitered where she stood.

"Coming up?" Delphine asked as she rounded from the driver's side and stepped onto the sidewalk, jingling her ring of keys.

"No," Cosima said flatly.

Delphine stopped in her tracks, jaw slackening. Cosima smiled feebly.

"I think it's better if I don't. Don't get me wrong," Cosima added hastily, holding up a hand to forestall any objection, "today was--awesome. Totally awesome. But you've--" She reconsidered. "There's a lot to think about. We both know there is. And I don't want you to feel--" Her hands whisked at the air. "There's no rush. Okay? No pressure. I said some things yesterday, but--" She pressed her lips together, head swaying side to side. "Last night doesn't have to mean anything. It doesn't have to be a big deal. We don't have to--" She gestured in the air between Delphine and herself. "--do this, if you don't want to."

Delphine leveled Cosima with a flabbergasted stare. " _Je n'ai jamais rencontré quelqu'un d'aussi incompréhensible._ " 

"O . . . kay." Confusion took its turn with Cosima. "My knowledge of French is a little limited." 

Delphine sighed. She combed through her hair with her fingers. "You're right."

Cosima tensed, the line of her jaw stark, but nodded in agreement. 

"But not about last night. I . . . maybe need time, yes," admitted Delphine, "however--was there anything today that told you I'm not . . . interested?"

"Well, to be honest," Cosima said slowly, bouncing her fingertips off one another, "today was--totally encouraging."

Delphine nodded along, buffering with silence her next contention. "I can't promise I won't accept a promotion--from anyone, Dr. Leekie included."

Cosima looked down at her hands. 

"Can you live with that?" pressed Delphine.

"Delphine," Cosima said to her hands, yanking at a thumb, glancing at her without lifting her head, "you're the one who's going to have to live with that."

Delphine waited. Cosima didn't elaborate.

And so. 

"This is how it's going to be," Delphine said. It was not a question.

Cosima nodded in small jerks. "On this point, yeah."

"And you're okay with knowing that I'm going to make decisions that I feel are best for me?"

"I can't tell you what to do," Cosima said quietly. "But for the record, whatever happens between us, I'd still tell you to be careful."

"Will you stop trying to change Dr. Leekie's mind about me?"

"He doesn't listen to me," Cosima said. Which wasn't an answer. 

Delphine sighed. "So that's that point." She stepped closer and claimed one of Cosima's hands, studying the blue veins across its back. "What about the other ones?"

Cosima shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

"You said there was no rush."

The slightest of pauses delayed Cosima's answer. "Nope. No rush."

"Then let's not rush," concluded Delphine, lifting her eyes to Cosima's face, "and find out what happens."

"An experiment?" Cosima clarified. The suggestion might have incurred different connotations in another conversation, between other conversants, if they hadn't been two scientists, if experimentation and repetition and trial and error were not their everyday modes of thinking and means of understanding. But they were two scientists and Cosima's tone was bright.

Delphine smiled and nodded. "An experiment."

*

So they didn't rush.

Not rushing meant saying goodbye to Cosima that afternoon and not seeing her again until Monday, when the brunette appeared in the cafeteria at lunchtime. In the wake of an interlude of absence peppered with tentative exchanges of messages playful and flirtatious, it was a typical scenario underpinned with atypical shyness. Cosima, finding Delphine already seated and dining alone, said nothing more than "Hey" in greeting and slipped into a vacant adjacent chair. Delphine followed her circumspect example. 

For the most part. 

In the shadow of the table, out of any colleague's general purview of sight, Delphine rested her hand upon Cosima's knee. Cosima stiffened, but made no comment or attempt to remove it or to squirm out from under Delphine's touch. She sat in a studied nonchalance and like that they passed the hour, and afterward Cosima accompanied Delphine on her walk back to her lab, not touching, but present. Outside the door, Cosima hesitated. Delphine understood. Leaning down, she brushed kisses across Cosima's cheeks, one and then the other, a perfectly platonic parting gesture, if lingering and slow, and pulled back with a rueful smile. Cosima smiled back, grateful and a little apologetic.

It was a different story outside the walls of DYAD, where Cosima's enthusiasm bled teeming--and infectious--into any available avenue. Conspiracies of little plans materialized with excitement and anticipation. (And indulgence. And tolerance.) They reached an agreement, finally, on a film to see in the theater. ("Okay, I'm down to watch Sandra Bullock in space, but that doesn't mean I don't want to see hot superheroes on the big screen." "Is the 'hotness' of these superheroes the reason you want to see it?" "No! Of course not. But it's a good reason.") They sampled restaurants new and old, traipsing--warily on Delphine's part, adventurously on Cosima's--into establishments little more than cubbies in alleys and splurging--and dressing for--fine dining experiences. ("Mmm," Cosima hummed appreciatively, "cocktail-hour Dr. Cormier." Delphine laughed. "'Dr. Cormier,' is it? Are you emphasizing my credentials to stick me with the bill?" "Oh, yeah. This poor starving grad student could use a sugar mommy." "Poor and starving! I can buy you a dictionary.") They suggested to one another concerts and shows and exhibits and festivals and discounted tourist activities. ("Where are you getting all these ideas?" "LivingSocial. I've been meaning for years to unsubscribe, but now it's coming in handy again. Go figure.") They went shopping. ("You look good in everything you own, but everything you own is black or white. Sometimes black and white." "So?" "I'm saying . . . you might want to consider adding a little color." "I have thought about it. And I reached the conclusion that I don't." "But this blue would look _amazing_ on you." "Does it matter if what you really want is to get me out of it?" "Having incentive never hurt.") They passed quiet days lounging about, inside and outside, at one or the other's apartment sprawled one against or atop another, in bookstores and cafes, at parks (always bringing a blanket) and on promenades. 

It wasn't, technically, all that different from how they'd made plans to spend time together as friends. But it was. In the light of Cosima's eyes. In the first hesitant, then unthinking way empty laps became inviting pillows. In how fingers gravitated toward hands or combed hair or tested textures of jeans, blouses, the little strip of skin exposed between shirt and pants. 

It was slow. It was the tempo of Cosima's electronica trance filling the brunette's apartment, the sinuous sway of Cosima's hips sidling up to Delphine from behind, Cosima's hands sliding up her sides and across her middle, beneath her shirt, Cosima's lips on her neck, languid and thoroughly exploratory. It was the measured pace that Cosima let Delphine set in undressing her, each article of clothing discarded with a degree of premeditation and assessment. It was the patience in Cosima's hands atop hers, guiding, the encouragement and satisfaction of her smile, the quiet way she drawled, "Right here . . . like that . . . there . . . a little more . . . yeah . . . yes-- _yes_ \--"

No rush.

*

"A woman?" echoed Delphine's friend, expression surprised, only just bordering on scandalized judging by the degree to which the lilt of her French--a respite to ears inundated daily with English--had risen through the scale.

"Yes, a woman," Delphine repeated back drolly. 

"Delphine, I'm--" 

Delphine arched her eyebrows at the camera. Valérie's lips pursed. 

"Well, I said America would ruin you."

Delphine laughed. Valérie did not, face still contorted with confusion. 

"It's unexpected," Valérie asserted. "You know that, right?"

Delphine shrugged.

"Do you love her?"

Delphine flicked her hand in a flinging gesture. "Do I have to love her to date her?"

Now Valérie's fine eyebrows lifted high. "Does she love you?"

"Does she have to love me to date me?" Delphine's delivery rolled with the impishness of the conceit. 

Valérie eyed her skeptically, unamused, or at least untaken by Delphine's pitch for levity. "Are you going to tell me this is some grand experiment? Or is this your way of preempting blame if things don't work out between you?"

Delphine sobered. "It's--" She shook her head, searching for words. "It is what it is. I don't see why I need to define it. She makes me laugh. And she makes me think. She even remembers what I like to eat and sends me messages throughout the day--to let me know that she's thinking about me." A smile stole across Delphine's lips at the thought. "Isn't that enough for now?"

Valérie hummed. Neither censure nor approval tinted her mien. Delphine knew that for the time being Valérie was withholding judgment. Instead, eyes slitting with slyness, Valérie clasped her hands and leaned toward the screen conspiratorially. "What does she look like? Is she pretty? And the sex? Have you--?"

Delphine's eyebrow twitched. "Well . . ."

*

It was enough, wasn't it, how her heart beat a little quicker when Cosima looked at her like _that_ , with plain hungry intent or naked appreciation, betimes undressing her and at others beholding, as if stumbling again and again into a consideration of Delphine in an altered light. Or her body learning to sing and ache at Cosima's touch in its deepest, most instinctual parts, catching Delphine short-breathed at a chance brush or shuddering with the slow caress of Cosima's fingers down her sides and up along the inside of a thigh. Or accommodating--adjusting to--growing accustomed to--the puzzle piece of Cosima occupying the space next to her in bed, slouched upon her on the couch, seated across the table, shuffling past her at the sink brushing her teeth to snag an eyeliner pencil, and taking separate cars, then taking one car when convenient, whoever happened to feel like driving, the driver seat in one becoming as familiar as the passenger seat in the other--and slipping buoyed along Cosima's attempts to navigate currents similar, to make the left side of her too-soft mattress Delphine's, to bring Delphine the bracelet she forgot on the nightstand, to shove space free in her closet to house Delphine's clothes, to try to impose dawdling in bed and tardiness as a philosophy of life.

It was enough to chuckle and grin as the brunette settled upon her lap, straddling, somehow the both of them in barely more than underwear--oh, but how good Cosima looked in that tank top, tone arms bared, breasts swelling above the neckline--and likely soon to be attired in even less the way Cosima braced her hands on the back of the couch, pelvis grinding gently, and mouth--Delphine's lips parted, her hands ghosting over the curve of Cosima's ass, finding anchor on Cosima's rocking hips--imparting a licking curl of smoke that she sealed into Delphine with one eager swoop, lips to lips, melting minutes into meaninglessness, where there existed only the body in Delphine's arms, the touch on her flesh, the sigh of her name in the quiet of their breaths. 

It was enough to imagine that the most pressing issue was balancing time together and time apart, to remove herself as a "distraction" from Cosima's ongoing struggle to complete her dissertation (laughing, "You would finish in no time, you know, if you thought of spending time with me as a reward instead of a distraction." "Yeah, but if I finished my dissertation, then what would I do with myself?" "What _do_ you want to do with your doctorate?" A silence and then the answer, quiet: "I always imagined I'd end up teaching." "Oh, God! Sorry. I didn't mean to sound like that. It's just that--teaching was not for me. But . . . I could see it for you. You don't feel that way about teaching anymore?" A moment's contemplation: "We'll see."), to allow for the solitude of reflection, to reacquaint herself with the quiet of her apartment and the meditative ritual of chores and tasks, to determine that the dwindling number of days she passed alone or without seeing Cosima originated not from a longing that made her contemplate her phone but from a growing familiarity, a demand of habit, the comfort of an everyday fixture.

It was enough to, less and less, find her eyes drawn to the electric teal spine on her bookshelf, to dwell not on its author, his words, a promise. 

It had to be enough, more than enough, when Cosima didn't seem to ask for much, nothing more than that with her Delphine should _be_. 

Present.

Engaged. 

Smiling.

Laughing.

Delphine didn't have to be more. But maybe she could be. Maybe she was.

*

Cosima kept glancing at Delphine. Discreetly. Furtively. Delphine had taken notice of it somewhere around fifteen pages back, thinking Cosima would either cease looking over or say something.

Cosima had done neither.

Curiosity and consternation wore at Delphine and won out. Marking her place with a finger, Delphine lowered her book and asked, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

Cosima shook her head--too quickly, eyes riveting to the screen of her laptop, the corners of her mouth dipping dramatically. "No. Nothing."

Doubt lifted Delphine's eyebrows. "Are you sure? Is something on your mind?"

Cosima's fingertips swept at the keys of her laptop in seeming contemplation of the keyboard layout. "I was wondering . . . if maybe you wanted to do something special tomorrow."

Delphine's eyebrows drew together. "Tomorrow?" Her head cocked in thought. "Is something special about tomorrow?" 

"It's the eighteenth," Cosima said, watching her out of the corner of her eye. Delphine shook her head slightly, drawing a blank. "You know. One month." A blonde eyebrow inquired further. "Since we started dating?"

It took a moment, for the smile to muster enough force of reaction to pluck at, then seize the muscles around Delphine's mouth, to form widening gradually, until it stretched taut, almost manic. 

"Ah," Delphine managed, though what she meant was, _You have been thinking about this. You have been counting off the days. You are a romantic._

_You are adorable._

Her monosyllabic answer summoned something suspiciously like a scowl into the lines of Cosima's face.

"I mean, of course," Delphine said with a little start to break her stupor. "We should go out, yes."

"We don't have to," Cosima mumbled, returning her focus to her laptop.

"No, we should. Somewhere--somewhere new?"

Cosima engaged her screen in a staring contest, mum. It broke with an abrupt swivel of her head in Delphine's direction. "I was thinking--remember that time I brought Thai food over? I've never taken you to the actual restaurant."

"You want to go there?" Delphine asked gently.

Cosima smiled. "Yeah."

And so. 

A month.

*

A week later, Delphine asked, "Where are we going tomorrow?"

Cosima blinked. "Tomorrow? Did we have plans? Are we supposed to have plans?"

"Well," Delphine said, slowly, gravely, "yes."

Cosima's consideration ventured inward, questing, confused. "Um. Refresher?"

"The twenty-fifth?" supplied Delphine.

Cosima's confusion ballooned, thin with skepticism. "It's not a holiday. It's not your birthday. It's not my birthday."

A smile fought for possession of Delphine's lips. "Cosima, really--" Delphine's lips spasmed, irrepressible. "--how could you not know?"

"What?" demanded Cosima.

"Five weeks?"

Comprehension dawned in Cosima's gaze. "You asshole! You're such a jerk."

Delphine laughed and attempted to pat Cosima's face in apology. Cosima shoved her away. Delphine redoubled her efforts and wrangled a kiss in the bargain. Cosima resisted, stiff against her, then yielded, forgiving through reciprocation.

The next day, Delphine took Cosima out.

*

The rhythms of their lives oscillated and vibed, if not in opposition, yet not quite in sync, passing through and along one another's to produce when they overlapped startling amplified heights and--almost more disruptive--intersections of cancelled space, a sense of peace so quiet that it buzzed in Delphine's ears in the soft chuffles of Cosima's slumbering breaths.

Cosima loomed larger in Delphine's everyday thoughts, casting a growing glow with the passage of time like the waxing moon, a brightness great enough to obscure the star that had been Dr. Leekie's pinpoint presence among Delphine's guiding constellations. Delphine had not, in fact, ever followed up. And with Dr. Leekie's absences as frequent and lengthy as always, perhaps Delphine didn't dwell on what being with Cosima--and forgiving Cosima--or, at least, accepting that she would not know what Cosima determined she could not know--might have exacted in price.

Small distractions facilitated forgetting--ignoring--what might have been (or what still waited, could still be). Projects at work demanded time and thought. Cosima herself, a puzzle unsolved, danced away for days--for "dissertation" time, for "strung out" time, for "alone" time--and sometimes returned different, altered, most often unreachably and contemplatively withdrawn, betimes tangibly marked.

Cosima healed well enough that bruises faded from darkly mottled to patches of yellow fairly quickly, but they stood out upon Cosima's fair skin--and Cosima winced to have the sore tenderness of them gripped by an eager ignorant hand. Cooing in apology, Delphine probed around one she had aggravated, keen on the pinprick of maroon red at its heart. No band-aid. At least a day old. 

Delphine adopted the barest hint of a frown. "Did you have blood drawn? Again?"

Cosima glanced at the offending injury in irritation, then into Delphine's face. She drew a breath and blew it out loudly. "Okay, so you wanna know my big secret?"

Delphine raised her head to meet Cosima's somber study with full attention. "What?"

Cosima swallowed. "I'm addicted to hardcore drugs."

Delphine gaped at her. Her mind tumbled back into nearly a week before. Waking up in the middle of the night, sweeping her arm across the half of the bed designated as Cosima's, to find it empty, the sheets cooled. She'd lifted her head, spotted the light emerging from beneath the bathroom door, confusion rousing her senses to greater wakefulness, enough to note the sound of water running--and running and running. The pipes had groaned when it stopped. Then the light had blinked out, the door opened, and Cosima padded back to bed, slipping beneath the covers. "Mmkay?" Delphine had mumbled, aiming for an inquiry after Cosima's well-being but managing only a sort of interrogative affirmation. But Cosima, finding her conscious, had only wriggled close, wrapping around her with a soft, "Yes."

Now Delphine wondered.

Cosima's eyes tracked across Delphine's face. 

The brunette guffawed. 

"Seriously? You bought that?" Delphine's eyes narrowed as Cosima broke into stuttering chortles. "Y-yes. Yes, I had blood drawn."

Delphine clutched at Cosima's forearm--mindful to avoid the bruise--and shook Cosima lightly, sending the brunette's head whiplashing in her glee. "Brat! Not funny." Cosima shuddered with mirth. 

"No, really," implored Delphine, "don't--don't joke like that, okay?" 

Cosima composed herself. With effort. She tucked away her persistent smile and met Delphine's troubled eyes sincerely. "Okay. No hardcore drugs for me. Just pot. Promise."

Delphine's fingers skimmed lightly over the discolored skin. Cosima's reassurance put to rest fears that never occurred to Delphine to have--and addressed none of the mysteries sown wild across Delphine's imagination.

"It wasn't so long since the last time you had blood drawn," Delphine remarked idly.

"Wasn't it?" Cosima drawled, eyebrows high, eyes on Delphine's lips. The brunette smiled and leaned in slow. She proceeded to occupy Delphine's mouth for a good long while for there to be time to waste on further questions.

*

There would be time for questions.

For all of them. 

Eventually.

Just as there had been time to exorcise Cosima of stiffening at her touch within the domain of the DYAD Institute. And suitable time to grow familiar with the concept of "girlfriend" (and for it to make its whispery way around water coolers and sidelong glances). And sufficient time passed to entertain the inklings of realization that perhaps Delphine would be willing to share time enough to encompass "eventually."

There would be time for questions, Delphine told herself. For all of them.

Perhaps.

*

Delphine bustled through the doors of the DYAD Institute at a brisk pace, tossing a smile and a flash of her security badge at the entrance security officer as she strode past his post. At the sight of her, Dennis rose from his seat, raising a hand to catch her attention. "Dr. Cormier!"

Delphine faltered.

"Dr. Leekie requested that you stop by his office, first thing."

Delphine's expression scrunched with perplexity. "Did he say for what?"

Dennis shook his head. "He only said as soon as possible and to call up to let him know when you'd arrived."

Delphine considered her options. "Do I have time to set my things down?"

Dennis shrugged and spread his hands. "I can give you five minutes before I notify Dr. Leekie."

"That'll help." Delphine smiled. "Thank you, Dennis."

Dennis nodded smartly. "Have a good one, Dr. Cormier."

Delphine hurried, head ducked and thoughts awhirl, to her work station, where she hastily deposited her bags and breathlessly returned salutations and good mornings. Curious eyes followed her as she hustled away as promptly as she arrived, to be detained at the elevator bank where she had to wait for a car to arrive. She stood staring up at the indicator, casting her mind back through the past week, the month, wondering what the summons might pertain to.

Wondering what Cosima would say. Wondering what she would tell Cosima. 

Anticipation and anxiety waged a pitched war across her nerves for place of emotional prominence. Their battle stirred a faint sense of nausea that steadily unsettled Delphine's stomach with each passing floor.

As she strode into the reception area, Kelsey greeted her with a smile, eyes soft, perhaps kind with the memory of their last encounter. "Dr. Cormier. You're expected." Standing up, Kelsey punched the intercom to announce Delphine's arrival and escorted Delphine, ready or not, into the office.

"Ah," Dr. Leekie intoned as Delphine stepped inside, "Delphine. Good morning."

"Good morning," she returned in a tone creditably steady, neither eager nor shrinking. Her passable presentation calmed the troubled seas roiling about her middle and bolstered her smile. Delphine felt poised. Enough to notice there was another occupant in the room, seated in one of the chairs before Dr. Leekie's desk. 

Delphine's breath caught.

Cosima--whom she hadn't seen for two days, who had said she needed a dedicated block of dissertation downtime--gazed up at her blankly. 

"Won't you join us?" Dr. Leekie asked, gesturing to the other chair, empty and waiting, next to Cosima. "Cosima and I have important matters to discuss with you. Don't we, Cosima?"

Maneuvering around the chair, clutching at the pieces of her fragmented composure, Delphine studied Cosima. The brunette breathed out through her nose, turned aside, and stared somewhere in the vicinity of the desktop. After a moment, as Delphine settled down, Cosima nodded. Mechanically. Her disposition exuded such brusque, impersonal distance and withdrawal--so unlike the woman who just a few nights ago had flicked popcorn at Delphine, giggling, and later growled hotly in her ear--that Delphine's greeting died within her.

It was as if Delphine hadn't kissed Cosima goodbye and wished her good luck two days before. Delphine folded her hands and kept them resolutely in her lap.

"Why don't you do the honors, Cosima?" Dr. Leekie prompted.

Cosima's eyes flicked up--hard, flat--to Dr. Leekie's face. The silence coiled tense around all of them. Then Cosima's shoulders slumped, infinitesimally. She cleared her throat, righted herself straighter in the chair, and turned her face toward Delphine.

"Dr. Cormier," Cosima began, with bland formality that set Delphine's spine rigid, "after review, we think that you would make a welcome addition to one of DYAD's most exciting and--" Cosima breathed in and exhaled the rest of the sentence. "--exclusive projects." The monotone of Cosima's delivery, the way that Cosima looked at her, in her direction, but wouldn't meet her eyes, put a flutter of apprehension in Delphine's gut. "However, it's highly classified and would require you to sign a new confidentiality agreement."

This was not the woman whose intimacy warmed Delphine's bed, nor even the woman whose introduction had startled Delphine with its friendliness. The person speaking to her was a stranger. 

Delphine's eyes darted to Dr. Leekie, who observed her with a smile parts satisfied, parts encouraging, and cut back to Cosima. "Okay."

"What Cosima means," Dr. Leekie interjected gently, pushing a bundle of stapled papers across the desk toward Delphine, "is that we've taken into consideration your work with Dr. Novak on autoimmune diseases, as well as his and others' evaluation of your capabilities. We believe that you may be able to bring a fresh perspective to a long-running project. We want you to work with us, Delphine, but as Cosima mentioned, it would require you to maintain the utmost confidence."

As Delphine reached for the papers, Cosima added, "You should read the agreement carefully," Delphine glanced over and Cosima caught and held her eyes, earnest, "and understand the terms you're agreeing to."

Dr. Leekie chuckled, so softly that Delphine wasn't sure he had but for the residual smile upon his lips.

"Okay," Delphine said more slowly.

"No need to be so serious," Dr. Leekie chided Cosima's bowed head. "Anyone hearing that tone of voice would think they're signing away their soul." He smiled at Delphine and proffered a pen. "It's your standard confidentiality agreement, expanded to cover the new areas of work you'll be involved with."

Delphine looked from Dr. Leekie to Cosima. Cosima's jaw twitched. "But what is the project?"

"We can't tell you until you sign," Cosima said quietly.

Cosima had said she had a pretty good guess as to Dr. Leekie's offer. A hunch, Delphine had accused her.

Lips thinned into a line to prevent a frown, Delphine paged through the confidentiality forms, skimming. Cosima slouched in her chair, an elbow on an armrest, chin in hand. Dr. Leekie watched Delphine, smiling, pen ready.

"I--" Delphine looked to Cosima. Cosima was turned away. "I'm honored."

Dr. Leekie tilted his head. "But?"

"I . . ." Delphine dropped her gaze, sans excuse or delay tactic.

Dr. Leekie breathed out slowly, expression neutral, projecting just a hint of disappointment. Then he turned a smile on Cosima. "What do you think, Cosima? Maybe we can make an exception for Delphine. Shall we give her a little peek?" 

Cosima gasped in a burst of laughter, a bitter sound, the most animation she'd displayed the whole meeting. "'A little peek'? I don't think that's possible."

"Nonsense," Dr. Leekie said, smiling and gathering up a stack of folders that had been set aside on his desk. He held them out to Delphine. She glanced again to Cosima, but the brunette was focused, jaw clenched, on the folders. Delphine took them and held them, reluctantly.

"Go ahead," Dr. Leekie prodded her. "Take a look."

Delphine looked to Cosima. Their eyes met. Delphine searched for a sign, some indication of what she could do.

Cosima turned away.

Hadn't Cosima admitted she couldn't tell Delphine what to do?

With a steadying breath, Delphine slowly turned back the cover on the file atop the stack. Her eyes scanned over the first page, registering a patient number, a name, birthdate, age, weight, height, place of residence, and then lifted the page to peruse the documents underneath, blood test results, charts and an X-ray, the symptoms familiar--she'd seen a case like this before, briefly, when Dr. Leekie had approached her for an opinion. She proceeded to the second folder, slipping the first to the bottom of the pile, and found the information--ages the same, height and weight close--similar, the symptoms afflicting the patient less advanced but exhibiting signs that they would follow the same course of progression. Brow furrowing, Delphine opened the third and last folder.

She froze.

Patient No.: 324B21  
Name: Niehaus, Cosima

Delphine's breaths stuttered, shortened. Her head felt light, her ears hollow, thoughts scattered, airy, fuzzy. 

Delphine raised her eyes. Cosima watched her, tired, resigned, from her eyes to her toes a portrait of defeat.

"I'm sick, Delphine," Cosima said. Delphine struggled to breathe through the constriction wounding tight around her chest. "We're sick."

Quiet buzzed in Delphine's ears, so that it was difficult to make sense of the syllables shaped in Dr. Leekie's voice. "And they need help. But the particulars of what makes their case unique are a proprietary secret."

Delphine's heart thudded, hard, loud, but she was aware of only Cosima, small and sorrowful.

And sick.

Delphine felt sick.

Dr. Leekie's voice intruded: "Need a pen, Dr. Cormier?"

Delphine turned to him in a daze, eyes fixing on the pen, a sleek black writing instrument. 

She couldn't look at Cosima. Cosima had been wrong. 

Not career advancement or career suicide. Not career advancement and career suicide.

But her. But Cosima.

Delphine wet her lips.

The pen floated ready.

"Yes. Thank you."

\- FIN -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank yous are in order.
> 
> To Mary, who reads everything I write indiscriminately (and thus is the best cheerleader but the worst critic), and Nemi, whose sudden interest--spurred by anon, whoever you are--rekindled my own interest in taking up the story again. They were companions on the strange journey this fanfic took, through the whining and confusion and pure self-indulgence, and encouraged me every step for their own selfish motives. A special shout out to WHY for having to listen to me ramble but getting none of the benefits of being privy to the actual fic. Sorry. XD
> 
> To [havuhadanosejob](http://havuhadanosejob.tumblr.com/)@tumblr, who generously answered my random French language questions and provided a surplus of information to my inquiries. Any incorrect use of French is due to my ignorance.
> 
> To [belowthesky](http://belowthesky.tumblr.com/)@tumblr who answered a beta reader summons and lent her keen eyes to ferreting out typos. All purple prose and remaining typos are strictly, stubbornly my own.
> 
> To the original twelve or thirteen souls on tumblr who had the misfortune of reading and following the early, incomplete parts of this fic months ago: Not sure it was worth the torture or the wait. XD
> 
> Thank you all for reading.


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